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PRIVATE  T  LIBRARY 


?'Ii?I'**I'!?I*» 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT 
Omar  John  Fareed,  M.D, 


If 


ILLUSTKATIONS 


OP 


UNIVERSAL    PROGRESS; 


§,  ^ixu^  0f  §i^mHUM. 


BY 

HERBERT  SPENCER, 


AUTHOR  OF 


TDB    TRINCIPLES    OF    PSTCHOLOGY,"    "SOCIAL    8TATI08,"    "ESSAYS,     MOEAI,. 

POLITICAL  AND   ^STttETIC,"   "EDUCATION,"  "  FIKST  PEINCIPLE8," 

ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


A  NOTICE  OF  SPMNCER'8  '^  NEW  BYSTEM  OF  PHILOSOPHY/' 

NEW  YOEK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

549    &    551    BROADWAY. 

1877. 


WOEKS    BY    HERBEET    SPENCEE. 

PUBLISHED    BY   D.    APPLETON    &    CO. 


Miscellaneous  Writings. 

EDUCATION— INTELLECTUAL,  MORAL,  AND  PHYSICAL. 

1  vol.,  12mo.     2S3  pages.     Cloth. 
ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  UNIVERSAL  PROGRESS.    1  vol.,  large 

l'2mo.     470  pages.     Cloth. 
ESSAYS— MORAL,    POLITICAL,  AND   ^ESTHETIC.      1   vol., 

large  12mo.    41S  pages. 
SOCIAL  STATICS ;  or,  the  Conditions  Essential  to  Human  Happi- 
ness Specified   and  the  first  of  thein  Developed.     1  vol.,  large  12uio.    523 

pages. 
THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  SCIENCES :  to  which  is  added 

Reasons  for  Dissenting  from  the  Philosophy  of  M.  Comte.     A  pamphlet  of 

50  pages.     Fine  paper. 

System  of  Philosophy. 

FIRST  PRINCIPLES,  in  Two  Parts— I.  The  Unknowable;    II. 

Laws  of  the  Knowable.     1  vol.,  large  12nio.    508  pages.     Cloth. 
PRINCIPLES  OF  BIOLOGY.     Yol.  I.  large  12mo.    475  pages. 
"        .         <*  "  Vol.  II.  large  12mo.     666  pages. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1804, 

By  D    APPLETON  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  t>ffice  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Statti  f.v  ih« 

ioulliern  District  of  New  York. 


m 

3 
//// 


AMERICAN   NOTICE 


OP    A 


NEW   SYSTEM  OF   PHILOSOPHY. 


HERBERT   SPENCER. 


The  author  of  the  following  work,  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  of 
England,  has  entered  upon  the  publication  of  a  new  philosophical 
system,  so  original  and  comprehensive  as  to  deserve  the  attention 
of  all  earnest  inquirers.  He  proposes  nothing  less  than  to  unfold 
such  a  complete  philosophy  of  Nature,  physical,  organic,  mental 
and  social,  as  Science  has  now  for  the  first  time  made  possible, 
and  which,  if  successfully  executed,  will  constitute  a  momentous 
Btep  in  the  progress  of  thought. 

His  system  is  designed  to  embrace  five  works  ;  each  a  distinct 
treatise,  but  all  closely  connected  in  plan,  and  treating  of  the  fol- 
lowing subjects  in  the  order  presented:  1st,  First  Principles; 
2d,  Principles  of  Biology;  3d,  Principles  of  Psychology;  4th, 
Principles  of  Sociology;  5th,  Principles  of  Morality.  The 
opening  work  of  the  series — First  Princi/Aes— though,  somewhat 
of  an  introductory  character,  is  an  independent  and  completed 


n 

argument.  It  consists  of  two  parts :  first,  "  The  Unknowable,"  and 
second,  "  The  Laws  of  the  Knowable."  Unattractive  as  these  titles 
may  seem,  they  indicate  a  discussion  of  great  originality  and 
transcendent  interest. 

When  public  consideration  is  invited  to  a  system  of  philosophy 
BO  extended  as  to  comprehend  the  entire  scheme  of  nature  and 
humanity,  and  so  bold  as  to  deal  with  them  in  the  ripest  spirit 
of  science,  it  is  natural  that  many  should  ask  at  the  outset  how 
the  author  stands  related  to  the  problem  of  Religion.  Mr. 
Spencer  finds  this  the  preliminary  question  of  his  philosophy, 
and  engages  with  it  at  the  threshold  of  his  undertaking.  Before 
attempting  to  work  out  a  philosophical  scheme,  he  sees  that  it  is 
at  first  necessary  to  find  how  fiir  Philosophy  can  go  and  where 
she  must  stop — the  necessary  limits  of  human  knowledge,  or  the 
circle  which  bounds  all  rational  and  legitimate  investigation ;  and 
this  oj^ens  at  once  the  profound  and  imminent  question  of  the 
spheres  and  relation  of  Religion  and  Science. 

Mr.  Spencer  is  a  leading  representative  of  that  school  of  think- 
ers which  holds  that,  as  man  is  finite,  he  can  grasp  and  know 
only  the  finite  ; — that  by  the  inexorable  conditions  of  thought  all 
real  knowledge  is  relative  and  phenomenal,  and  hence  that  we 
cannot  go  behind  phenomena  to  find  the  ultimate  causes  and  solve 
the  ultimate  mystery  of  being.  In  such  assertions  as  that  "  God 
cannot  by  any  searching  be  found  out ;  "  that  "  a  God  understood 
would  be  no  God  at  all ;  "  and  that  "  to  think  God  is  as  we  think 
Him  to  be  is  blasphemy,"  we  see  the  recognition  of  this  idea  of 
the  inscrutableness  of  the  Absolute  Cause.  The  doctrine  itself  is 
neither  new  nor  limited  to  a  few  exceptional  thinkers.  It  is 
widely  affirmed  by  enlightened  science,  and  pervades  nearly  all 
the  cultivated  theology  of  the  present  day.  Sir  "William 
Hamilton  and  Dr.  Mansel  are  among  its  recent  and  ablest  ex- 
pounders. "  With  the  exception,"  says  Sir  William  Hamilton, 
"  of  a  few  late  absolutist  theorizers  in  Germany,  this  is  j^erhapa 


N^EW    SYSTEM   OF   PHILOSOPHY.  Vll 

tlie  trutn  of  all  others  nrost  harmoniously  reechoed  by  every 
philosopher  of  every  school ;  "  and  among  these  he  names  Pro- 
tagoras, Aristotle,  St.  Augustine,  Melanchthon,  Scaliger,  Bacon, 
Spinoza,  Newton,  and  Kant. 

But  though  Mr.  Spencer  accepts  this  doctrine,  he  has  not  left 
it  where  he  found  it.  The  world  is  indebted  to  him  for  having 
advanced  the  argument  to  a  higher  and  grander  conclusion — a 
conclusion  which  changes  the  philosophical  aspect  of  the  whole 
question,  and  involves  the  profoundest  consequences.  Hamilton 
and  Mansel  bring  us,  by  their  inexorable  logic,  to  the  result  that 
we  can  neither  know  nor  conceive  the  Infinite,  and  that  every 
attempt  to  do  so  involves  us  in  contradiction  and  absurdity  ;  but 
having  reached  this  vast  negation,  their  logic  and  philosophy 
break  down.  Accepting  their  conclusions  as  far  as  they  go,  Mr. 
Spencer  maintains  the  utter  incompleteness  of  their  reasoning, 
and,  pushing  the  inquiry  still  farther,  he  demonstrates  that 
though  we  cannot  grasp  the  Infinite  in  thougJit^  we  can  realize  it 
m  consciousness.  He  shows  that  though  by  the  laws  of  thinking 
we  are  rigorously  prevented  from  forming  a  conception  of  that 
Incomprehensible,  Omnipotent  Power,  by  which  we  are  acted 
upon  in  all  phenomena,  yet  we  are,  by  the  laws  of  thought,  equally 
prevented  from  ridding  ourselves  of  the  consciousness  of  this 
Power.  He  proves  that  this  consciousness  of  a  Supreme  Cause  is 
Qot  negative^  but  j^^^sitice — that  it  is  indestructible,  and  has  a 
higher  certainty  than  any  other  belief  whatever.  The  Unknow- 
able, then,  m  the  view  of  Mr.  Spencer,  is  not  a  mere  term  of  nega- 
tion, nor  a  word  employed  only  to  express  our  ignorance,  but  it 
means  that  Infinite  Reality,  that  Supreme  but  Inscrutable  Cause, 
of  which  the  universe  is  but  a  manifestation,  and  which  has  an 
ever-present  disclosure  in  human  consciousness. 

Having  thus  found  an  indestructible  basis  in  human  nature 
for  the  religious  sentiment,  Mr.  Sj)encer  next  shows  that  all  reli- 
gi(m3  rest  upon  this  foundation,  and  contain  a  fundamental  veritj 


Vlll  NOTICE   OF    HERBERT   SPENCER  S 

— a  soul  of  truth,  which  remains  when  their  conflicting  doctrinea 
and  discordant  peculiarities  are  mutually  cancelled.  In  the  lower 
and  grosser  forms  of  religion  this  truth  is  but  dimly  discerned, 
but  becomes  ever  clearer  the  more  highly  the  religion  is  devel- 
oped, surviving  every  change,  and  remaining  untouched  by  the 
severest  criticism. 

3Ir.  Spencer  then  proceeds  to  demonstrate  that  all  science 
tends  to  precisely  the  same  great  conclusion; — in  all  directions 
investigation  leads  to  insoluble  mystery.  Alike  in  the  external  and 
the  internal  worlds,  the  man  of  science  sees  himself  in  the  midst 
of  perpetual  changes  of  which  he  can  discover  neither  the  begin- 
ning nor  the  end.  If  he  looks  inward,  he  perceives  that  both 
ends  of  the  thread  of  consciousness  are  beyond  his  grasp.  If  he 
resolve  the  appearances,  projDerties,  and  movements  of  surround- 
ing things  into  manifestations  of  Force  in  Space  and  Time,  he  still 
finds  that  Force,  Space,  and  Time  pass  all  understanding.  Thus 
do  all  lines  of  argument  converge  to  the  same  conclusion. 
Whether  we  scrutinize  internal  consciousness  or  external  phenom- 
ena, or  trace  to  their  root  the  faiths  of  mankind,  we  reach  that 
common  ground  where  all  antagonisms  disapi^ear — that  highest 
and  most  abstract  of  all  truths,  which  is .  affirmed  with  equal 
certainty  by  both  religion  and  science,  and  in  which  may  be 
found  their  full  and  final  reconciliation. 

It  is  perhaps  hardly  just  to  Mr.  Spencer  to  state  his  position 
upon  this  grave  subject  without  giving  also  the  accompanying 
reasoning ;  but  so  compressed  and  symmetrical  is  his  argument 
that  it  cannot  be  put  into  narrower  compass  without  mutilation. 
To  those  interested  in  the  advance  of  thought  in  this  direction, 
Me  may  say  that  the  discussion  will  be  found  imsurpassed  in 
nobleness  of  aim,  eloquence  of  statement,  philosophic  breadth, 
and  depth  and  power  of  reasoning. 

This  portion  of  the  work  embraces  five  chapters,  as  follows 
L   Religion  and  Science ;     11.  Ultimate  Religious  Ideas ;     UL 


NEW    SYSTEM    OF    rillLOSOrHY.  H 

(Jltimate  Scientific  Ideas  ;  lY.  The  Relativity  of  all  Knowledge  ; 
V.  The  Reconciliation. 

The  second  and  larger  portion  of  First  Principles  Mr. 
Spencer  designates  "  The  Laws  of  the  Knowable."  By  these  he 
understands  those  fundamental  and  universal  principles  reached 
by  scientific  investigation,  which  underlie  all  phenomena,  and 
are  necessary  to  their  explanation.  Certain  great  laws  have  been 
established  which  are  found  equally  true  in  all  departments  of 
nature,  and  these  are  made  the  foundation  of  his  philosophy. 
The  sublime  idea  of  the  Unity  of  the  Universe,  to  which  science 
has  long  been  tending,  Mr.  Sj)encer  has  made  peculiarly  his  own. 
Through  the  vast  diversities  of  nature  he  discerns  a  oneness  of 
order  and  method,  which  necessitates  but  one  philosophy  of  being ; 
the  same  principles  being  found  to  regulate  the  course  of  celes- 
tial movement,  terrestrial  changes,  and  the  phenomena  of  life, 
mind,  and  society.  These  may  all  be  comprehended  in  a  single 
philosophical  scheme,  so  that  each  shall  thi*ow  light  wpon  the 
other,  and  the  mastery  of  one  helf)  to  the  comprehension  of  all. 

To  Mr.  Spencer  the  one  conception  which  spans  the  universe 
and  solves  the  widest  range  of  its  problems — which  reaches  out- 
ward through  boundless  space  and  back  through  illimitable  time, 
resolving  the  deepest  questions  of  life,  mind,  society,  history,  and 
civilization,  which  predicts  the  glorious  possibilities  of  the  future, 
and  reveals  the  august  method  by  which  the  Divine  Power  work? 
evermore, — this  one,  all-elucidatmg  3onception,  is  expressed  by 
the  term  Evolution.  To  this  great  subject  he  has  devoted  his 
remarkable  powers  of  thought  for  many  years,  and  stands  toward 
it  not  only  in  the  relation  of  an  expositor,  but  also  in  that  of  a 
discoverer. 

The  fact  that  all  living  beings  are  developed  from  a  minute 
structureless  germ  has  long  been  known,  while  the  law  which 
governs  their  evolution — that  the  change  is  ever  from  the  homo- 
geneous to  the  heterogeneous — has  been  arrived  at  within  a  gen- 


eration.  But  this  fact  of  growth  is  by  no  means  limited  to  the 
physical  history  of  plants  and  animals — it  is  exemplified  upon  a 
far  more  extended  scale.  Astronomers  hold  that  the  solar  system 
has  gone  through  such  a  process,  and  Geologists  teach  that  the 
earth  has  had  its  career  of  evolution.  Animals  have  a  mental 
as  well  as  a  physical  development,  and  there  is  also  a  progress  of 
knowledge,  of  religion,  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  of  institutions, 
manners,  governments,  and  civilization  itself.  3Ir.  Spencer  has 
the  honour  of  having  first  established  the  universality  of  the  prin- 
ciple by  which  all  these  changes  are  governed.  The  law  of  evo- 
lution, which  has  been  hitherto  limited  to  plants  and  animals,  he 
demonstrates  to  be  the  law  of  all  evolution.  This  doctrine  is 
unfolded  in  the  fii'st  Essay  of  the  present  volume,  and  is  more  or 
less  fully  illustrated  in  the  others ;  but  it  will  be  found  elaborately 
worked  out  in  the  second  part  of  First  Principles. 

The  course  of  the  discussion  in  this  part  of  the  work  will  be 
best  shown  by  enumerating  the  titles  to  the  chapters,  which  are 
as  follows  :  I.  Laws  in  General ;  11.  The  Law  of  Evolution ;  III. 
The  Same  continued ;  lY.  The  Causes  of  Evolution ;  Y.  Space, 
Time,  Matter,  Motion,  and  Force ;  YI.  The  Indestructibility  of 
Matter ;  YII.  The  Continuity  of  Motion  ;  Ym.  The  Persistence 
of  Force  ;  IX.  The  Correlation  and  Equivalence  of  Forces  ;  X. 
The  Direction  of  Motion  ;  XI.  The  Rhythm  of  Motion ;  XH. 
The  Conditions  Essential  to  Evolution  ;  XIII.  The  Instability  of 
the  Homogeneous ;  XIY.  The  Multiplication  of  Efi"ects ;  XV. 
Differentiation  and  Integration ;  XYI.  Equilibration ;  XYIL 
Summary  and  Conclusion. 

A  moit  interesting  and  fruitful  field  of  thought,  it  will  be 
seen,  is  here  traversed  by  our  author,  and  the  latest  and  highest 
questions  of  science  are  discussed  under  novel  aspects  and  in  new 
relations.  Not  only  do  the  pages  abound  with  acute  suggestions 
and  fresh  views,  but  the  entire  argument,  in  its  leading  demoU' 


NEW    SYSTEM    OF   PHILOSOPHY.  XI 

itrations,  and  the  full  breadth,  of  its  philosophic  scope,  is  stamped 
with  a  high  originality. 

Having  thus  determined  the  sphere  of  philosophy  and  ascer- 
tained those  fundamental  princif)les  governing  all  orders  of  phe- 
nomena.which  are  to  be  subsequently  used  for  guidance  and  veri- 
fication, the  author  proceeds  to  the  second  work  of  the  series, 
which  is  devoted  to  Biology,  or  the  Science  of  Life.  He  regards 
life  not  as  a  foreign  and  miintelligible  something,  thrust  into  the 
scheme  of  nature,  of  which  we  can  know  nothing  save  its  mys- 
tery, but  as  an  essential  part  of  the  universal  plan.  The  har- 
monies of  life  are  regarded  as  but  phases  of  the  universal  har- 
mony, and  Biology  is  studied  by  the  same  methods  as  other  de- 
partments of  science.  The  great  truths  of  Physics  and  Chemistry 
are  apj^lied  to  its  elucidation ;  its  facts  are  collected,  its  induc- 
tions established,  and  constantly  verified  by  the  first  principles 
laid  down  at  the  outset.  Apart  from  its  connections  with  the 
philosophical  system,  of  which  it  forms  a  part,  this  work  will 
have  great  intrinsic  interest.  Nothing  was  more  needed  than  a 
compact  and  well-digested  statement  of  those  general  principles 
of  life  to  which  science  has  arrived,  and  Mr.  Spencer's  presenta- 
tion is  proving  to  be  just  what  is  required.  Some  idea  of  his 
mode  of  treating  the  subject  may  be  formed  by  glancing  over  a 
few  of  his  first  chapter-headings.  Part  First  :  I.  Organic  Matter ; 
II.  The  Actions  of  Forces  on  Organic  Matter  ;  III.  The  Reactions 
of  Organic  Matter  on  Forces  ;  IV.  Proximate  Definition  of  Life  ; 
V.  The  Correspondence  between  Life  and  its  Circumstances 
VT.  The  Degree  of  Life  Varies  with  the  Degree  of  Correspond- 
ence ;  VH.  Inductions  of  Biology.  Part  SEC0]srD :  I.  Growth  ; 
II.  Development ;  III.  Function ;  IV.  Waste  and  Repaii' ;  V. 
Adaptation;  VI.  Individuality;  VII.  Genesis;  VIII.  Heredity; 
IX.  Variation  ;  X.  Genesis,  Heredity  and  Variation  ;  XI.  Classifi- 
cation ;  XII.  Distribution. 


HI  NOTICE   OF   HERBERT   SrENCER  S 

In  the  scheme  of  nature  Mind  is  ever  associated  with  Life. 
The  third  division  of  this  philosophical  system  will  therefore  bo 
Psychology,  or  the  Science  of  Mind.  This  great  subject  will  be 
considered,  not  by  the  narrow  methods  usual  with  metaphy- 
sicians, but  in  its  broadest  aspects  as  a  phase  of  nature's  order — 
to  be  studied  by  observation  and  induction  through  the  whole 
range  of  psychical  manifestation  in  animated  beings.  The  sub- 
ject of  mind  will  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  the  great  truths  of 
Biology  previously  established  ;  the  connections  of  mind  and  life 
will  be  traced  ;  the  progress  of  mentality  as  exhibited  in  the  ani- 
mal grades,  and  the  evolution  of  the  intellectual  faculties  in  man 
will  be  delineated  and  the  cooperation  of  mind  and  nature  in  the 
production  of  ideas  and  intelligence  unfolded.  We  have  no  work 
upon  mind  of  this  comprehensive  and  thoroughly  scientific  char- 
acter :  the  materials  are  abundant,  and  the  necessity  of  their 
organization  is  widely  recognized.  That  IMr.  Silencer  is  eminently 
the  man  to  perform  this  great  task  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  he 
is  already  the  author  of  the  most  profound  and  able  contribu- 
tion to  the  advancement  of  psychological  science  that  has  ap- 
peared for  many  years. 

In  the  true  philosophic  order.  Biology  and  Psychology  prepare 
the  way  for  the  study  of  social  science,  and  hence  the  fourth  part 
of  Mr.  Spencer's  system  will  treat  of  Sociology,  or  the  natural  laws 
of  society.  As  a  knowledge  of  individuals  must  precede  an  under- 
standing of  th^ir  mutual  relations,  so  an  exposition  of  the  laws  of 
life  and  mind,  which  constitute  the  science  of  human  nature,  must 
precede  the  successful  study  of  social  phenomena.  In  this  part 
will  be  considered  the  development  of  society,  or  that  intellectual 
and  moral  progress  which  depends  upon  the  growth  of  human 
ideas  and  feelings  in  their  necessary  order.  The  evolution  of 
political,  ecclesiastical,  and  industrial  organizations  will  be 
traced,  and  a  statement  made  of  those  priiKdples  underh-ing  aU 


NEW    SYSTEM    OF   PHILOSOPHY.  Xlll 

Bocial  progress,  without  whicli  there  can  be  no  successful  regula- 
tion of  the  affairs  of  society.  Mr.  Spencer's  mind  has  long  been 
occupied  with  these  important  questions,  as  the  reader  will  find 
by  referring  to  his  able  work  upor  "  Social  Statics,"  published 
oeveral  years  ago. 

Lastly,  in  Part  Fifth,  Mr.  Spencer  proposes  to  consider  the 
Principles  of  Morality,  bringing  to  bear  the  truths  furnished  by 
Biology,  Psychology,  and  Sociology,  to  determine  the  true  theoiy 
of  right  living.  He  will  show  that  the  true  moral  ideal  and  limit 
of  progress  is  the  attainment  of  an  equilibrium  betw^een  constitu- 
tion and  conditions  of  existence,  and  trace  those  principles  of 
private  conduct,  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  that 
follow  from  the  conditions  to  complete  individual  life.  Those 
rules  of  human  action  which  all  civilized  nations  have  registered 
as  essential  laws — the  inductions  of  morality — will  be  delineated, 
and  also  those  mutual  limitations  of  men's  actions  necessitated  by 
their  coexistence  as  units  of  society,  which  constitute  the  founda- 
tion of  justice. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  order  here  indicated,  as  it  cor- 
responds to  the  method  of  nature,  is  the  one  which  Philosophy 
must  pursue  in  the  future.  It  combines  the  precision  of  science 
with  the  harmony  and  unity  of  universal  truth.  The  time  is  past 
when  Biology  can  be  considered  with  no  reference  to  the  laws  of 
Physics ;  Mind  with  no  reference  to  the  science  Of  Life,  and  So- 
ciology, without  having  previously  mastered  the  foregoing '  sub- 
jects. The  progress  of  knowledge  is  now  toward  more  definite, 
systematic,  and  comprehensive  views,  while  it  is  the  highest  func- 
tion of  intellect  to  coordinate  and  bind  together  its  isolated  and 
fragmentary  parts.  In  carrying  out  his  great  plan,  therefore, 
Mr.  Spencer  is  but  embodying  the  large  philosophical  tendencies 
of  the  age. 


nv  NOTICE   OF   HERBERT   Sl'KKCER  8 

/ 
If  it  is  urged  that  his  sclieme  is  too  vast  for  any  one  man  to 
accomplish,  it  may  be  replied :  1st.  That  it  is  not  intended  to 
treat  the  various  subjects  exhaustively,  but  only  to  state  genenil 
principles  with  just  sufficient  details  for  their  clear  illustration. 
2d.  A  considerable  portion  of  the  work  is  aheady  issued,  and 
much  more  is  ready  for  publication,  while  the  author  is  still  in 
the  prime  of  life.  3d.  It  must  be  remembered  that  intellects  oc- 
casionally appear,  endowed  with  that  comprehensive  grasp  and 
high  organizing  power  which  fits  them  for  vast  undertakings. 
The  reader  will  find  at  the  close  of  the  volume  Mr.  Spencer's 
Prospectus  of  his  system.  That  he  who  has  so  clearly  mapped 
out  his  work  is  the  proper  one  to  execute  it,  we  think  will  be 
fully  apparent  to  all  who  peruse  the  present  volume. 

An  impression  prevails  wHh  many  that  :Mr.  Spencer  belongs 
to  the  positive  school  of  M.  Auguste  Comte.  This  is  an  entire 
misapprehension  ;  but  the  position  having  been  assumed  by  sev- 
eral of  his  reviewers,  he  repels  the  charge  in  the  following  letter, 
wliich  appeared  in  the  Hew  Englmider  for  January,  1864. 

To  the  Editor  of  tlie  New  Eiiglcinder : 

^yr: — While  recognizing  the  appreciative  tone  and  general 
candour  of  the  article  in  your  last  number,  entitled  "  Herbert  Spen- 
cer on  Ultimate  Religious  Ideas,"  allow  me  to  point  out  one  error 
which  pervades  it.  The  writer  correctly  represents  the  leading 
positions  of  my  argument,  but  he  inadvertently  conveys  a  wrong 
impression  respecting  my  tendencies  and  sympathies.  He  says 
of  me,  "  the  spirit  of  his  philosophy  is  evidently  that  of  the  so- 
called  positive  method  which  has  now  many  partial  disciples, 
as  well  as  many  zealous  adherents  among  the  thinkers  of  Eng- 
land." Further  on  I  am  tacitly  classed  with  "  the  English  ad- 
mirers and  disciples  of  the  great  Positivist ; "  and  it  is  presently 
added  that  "  in  Mr.  Spencer  we  have  an  example  of  a  positivist, 
who  does  not  treat  the  subject  of  religion  with  supercilious  neg- 
lect." Here  and  throughout,  the  implication  is  that  I  am  a  fol- 
lower of  Comte.     This  is  a  mistake.    That  M.  Comte  has  given  a 


NEW    SYSTEM   OF    PHILOSOPHY.  X^V 

general  exposition  of  the  doctrine  and  mefhod  elaborated  by 
Bcience,  and  has  applied  to  it  a  name  which  has  obtained  a  certain 
currency,  is  true.  But  it  is  not  true  that  the  holders  of  this  doc- 
trine and  followers  of  this  method  are  disciples  of  M.  Comte. 
Neither  their  modes  of  inquiry  nor  their  views  concerning  human 
knowledge  in  its  nature  and  limits  are  appreciably  different  from 
what  they  were  before.  If  they  are  Positivists  it  is  in  the  sense 
that  all  men  of  science  have  been  more  or  less  consistently  Posi- 
tivists ;  and  the  applicability  of  M.  Comte's  title  to  them  no  more 
makes  them  his  disciples  than  does  its  applicability  to  the  men  of 
science  who  lived  and  died  before  M.  Comte  wrote,  make  them 
his  disciples. 

My  own  attitude  toward  M.  Comte  and  his  partial  adherents 
has  been  all  along  that  of  antagonism.  In  an  essay  on  the 
"  Genesis  of  Science,"  published  in  1854,  and  republished  with 
other  essays  in  1857,  I  have  endeavoured  to  show  that  his  theory 
of  the  logical  dependence  and  historical  development  of  the 
sciences  is  untrue.  I  have  still  among  my  papers  the  memoranda 
of  a  second  review  (for  which  I  failed  to  obtain  a  place),  the  pur- 
pose of  which  was  to  show  the  untenableness  of  his  theory  of  in- 
tellectual progress.  The  only  doctrine  of  importance  in  which  I 
agree  with  him — the  relativity  of  all  knowledge — is  one  common  to 
him  and  sundry  other  thinkers  of  earlier  date  ;  and  even  this  I  hold 
in  a  different  sense  from  that  in  which  he  held  it.  But  on  all 
points  that  are  distinctive  of  his  philosophy,  I  differ  from  him.  I 
d^ny  his  Hierarchy  of  the  Sciences.  I  regard  his  division  of  in- 
tellectual progress  into  the  three  phases,  theological,  metaphysi- 
cal, and  positive,  as  superficial.  I  reject  utterly  his  Religion  of 
Humanity.  And  his  ideal  of  society  I  hold  in  detestation.  Some 
of  his  minor  views  I  accept ;  some  of  his  incidental  remarks  seem 
to  me  to  be  profound,  but  from  everything  which  distinguishes 
Comteism  as  a  system,  I  dissent  entirely.  The  only  influence  on 
my  own  course  of  thought  which  I  can  trace  to  M.  Comte's  writings, 
is  the  influence  that  results  from  meeting  with  antagonistic  opin- 
ions definitely  expressed. 

Such  being  my  position,  you  will,  I  think,  see  that  by  classing 
Die  as  a  Positivist,  and  tacitly  including  me  among  the  English 
admirers  and  disciples  of  Comte,  your  reviewer  unintentionally 
misrepresents  me.     I  am  quite  ready  to  bear  the  odium  attaching 


X71  NOTICE   OF 

to  opinions  whicli  I  do  liold ;  but  I  object  to  have  added  tlic 
odium  attacliing  to  opinions  which  I  do  not  hold.  If,  by  publish- 
ing this  letter  in  your  forthcoming  number,  you  will  allow  me  to 
Bet  myself  right  with  the  American  public  on  this  matter,  you  will 
greatly  oblige  me.     I  am.  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

Herbert  Spencer. 

We  take  the  liberty  of  making  an  extract  from  a  private  lettei 
of  Mr.  Spencer,  which  contains  some  further  observations  in  the 
same  connection : 

"  There  appears  to  have  got  abroad  in  the  United  States,  a 
very  erroneous  impression  respecting  the  influence  of  Comte's 
writings  in  England.  I  suppose  that  the  currency  obtained  by 
the  words  'Positivism'  and  '  Positivist,'  is  to  blame  for  this. 
Comte  having  designated  by  the  term  Positive  Philosophy  aU 
that  body  of  definitely-established  knowledge  which  men  of 
science  have  been  gi-adually  organizing  into  a  coherent  body  of 
doctrine,  and  having  habitually  placed  this  in  opposition  to  the 
incoherent  body  of  doctrine  defended  by  theologians,  it  has  be- 
come the  habit  of  the  theological  party  to  think  of  the  antagonist 
scientific  party  under  this  title  of  Positivists  applied  to  them  by 
Comte.  And  thus,  from  the  habit  of  calling  them  Positivists 
there  has  grown  up  the  assumption  that  they  call  themselves  Posi- 
tivists, and  that  they  are  the  disciples  of  Comte.  The  truth  is 
that  Comte  and  his  doctrines  receive  here  scarcely  any  attention. 
I  know  something  of  the  scientific  world  in  England,  and  I  camiot 
name  a  single  man  of  science  who  acknowledges  himself  a  fol- 
lower of  Comte,  or  accepts  the  title  of  Positivist.  Lest,  however, 
there  should  be  some  such  who  were  unknown  to  me,  I  have  re- 
cently made  inquiries  into  the  matter.  To  Professor  Tyndall  I 
put  the  question  whether  Comte  had  exerted  any  appreciable  in- 
fluence on  his  own  course  of  thought :  and  he  replied,  '  So  far  as 
I  know,  my  own  course  of  thought  would  have  been  exactly  the 
same  had  Comte  never  existed.'  I  then  asked,  '  Do  you  know 
any  men  of  science  whose  views  have  been  afiected  by  Comte's 
writings?'  and  his  answer  was:  'His  influence  on  scientific 
thought  in  England  is  absolutely  niV  To  the  same  questions 
Prof,  Huxley  returned,  in  other  words,  the  same  answers.    Profe& 


NEW    SYSTEM    OF   PHILOSOPHY.  XVU 

Bors  Huxley  and  Tyndall,  being  leaders  in  their  respective  de- 
partments, and  being  also  men  of  general  culture  and  philosopliic 
insight,  I  think  that,  joining  their  impressions  with  my  own,  I  am 
justified  in  saying  that  the  scientific  world  of  England  is  wholly 
uninfluenced  by  Comte.  Such  small  influence  as  he  has  had  here 
has  been  on  some  literary  men  and  historians — men  who  were  at- 
tracted by  the  grand  achievements  of  science,  who  were  charmed 
by  the  plausible  system  of  scientific  generalizations  put  forth  by 
Comte,  with  the  usual  French  regard  for  symmetry  and  disregard 
for  fact,  and  who  were,  from  their  want  of  scientific  training, 
unable  to  detect  the  essential  fallaciousness  of  his  system.  Of 
these  the  most  notable  example  was  the  late  Mr.  Buckle.  Besides 
him,  I  can  name  but  seven  men  who  have  been  in  any  appreciable 
degree  influenced  by  Comte ;  and  of  these,  four,  if  not  five,  arc 
scarcely  known  to  the  public." 

Mr.  Spencer's  philosophical  series  is  published  by  D.  Appleton 
&  Co.,  New  York,  in  quarterly  parts  (80  to  100  pages  each),  by 
subscription,  at  two  dollars  a  year.  "  First  Principles''''  is  issued 
in  one  volume,  and  four  parts  of  Biology  have  appeared.  We 
subjoin  some  notices  of  his  philosophy  from  American  and  English 
reviews. 

From  the  National   Quarterly  Beview  (American.) 

Comte  thus  founded  social  science,  and  opened  a  path  for 
future  discoverers  ;  but  he  did  not  perceive,  any  more  than  pre- 
vious inquirers,  the  fundamental  law  of  human  evolution.  It  was 
reserved  for  Herbert  Spencer  to  discover  this  all-comprehensive 
law  which  is  found  to  explain  alike  all  the  phenomena  of  man's 
history  and  all  those  of  external  nature.  This  sublime  discovery, 
that  the  universe  is  in  a  continuous  process  of  evolution  from  the 
homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  with  which  only  Newton's 
law  of  gravitation  is  at  all  worthy  to  be  compared,  underlies  not 
only  physics,  but  also  history.  It  reveals  the  law  to  which  social 
changes  confonn. 

From  the  Christian  Examiner. 
Reverent  and  bold — reverent  for  truth,  though  not  for  tlia 


XnU  NOTICE   OF   HERBERT    SPEN(?EK  8 

forms  of  truth,  and  not  for  miich  that  we  hold  true — bold  in  the 
destruction  of  error,  though  without  that  joy  in  destruction  which 
often  claims  the  name  of  boldness ; — these  works  are  interesting 
in  themselves  and  in  their  relation  to  the  current  thought  of  the 
time.  They  seem  at  first  sight  to  form  the  turning  point  in  the 
positive  philosojDhy,  but  closer  examination  shows  us  that  it  is 
only  a  new  and  marked  stage  in  a  regular  growth.  It  is  the 
positive  philosojihy  reaching  the  higher  relations  of  our  being, 
and  establishing  what  before  it  ignored  because  it  had  not 
reached,  and  by  ignoring  seemed  to  deny.  This  sj'stem  formerly 
excluded  theology  and  psychology.  In  the  works  of  Herbert  Spen- 
cer we  have  the  rudiments  of  a  positive  theology  and  an  immense 
step  toward  the  perfection  of  the  science  of  psychology.  *  *  * 
Such  is  a  brief  and  meagre  sketch  of  a  discussion  which  we 
would  commend  to  be  followed  in  detail  by  every  mind  interested 
In  theological  studies.  Herbert  Spencer  comes  in  good  faith  from 
what  has  been  so  long  a  hostile  camp,  bringing  a  flag  of  truce 
and  presenting  terms  of  agreement  meant  to  be  honourable  to 
both  parties ;  let  us  give  him  a  candid  hearing.  *  *  *  In 
conclusion,  we  would  remark  that  the  work  of  Herbert  Spencer 
referred  to  (First  Princiijles)  is  not  mainly  theological,  but  will 
present  the  latest  and  broadest  generalizations  of  science,  and  we 
would  commend  to  our  readers  this  author,  too  little  known 
among  us,  as  at  once  one  of  the  clearest  of  teachers  and  one  of  the 
wisest  and  most  honourable  of  opponents. 

From  the  New  Englander. 

Though  we  find  here  some  unwarranted  assumptions,  as  well 
as  some  grave  omissions,  yet  this  part  (Laws  of  the  Knowable) 
may  be  considered,  upon  the  whole,  as  a  fine  specimen  of  scien- 
tific reasoning.  Considerable  sp)ace  is  devoted  to  the  "  Law  of 
Evolution  "  the  discovery  of  which  is  the  author's  chief  claim  to 
originality,  and  certainly  evinces  great  power  of  generalization. 
To  quote  the  abstract  definition  -wdthout  a  full  statement  of  the 
inductions  from  which  it  is  derived  would  convey  no  fair  im- 
pression of  the  breadth  and  strength  of  the  thought  which  it 
epitomizes.  Of  Mr.  Silencer's  general  characteristics  as  a  writer, 
we  may  observe  that  his  style  is  marked  by  great  purity,  clear- 


KEW    SYSTEM   OF   PHILOSOPHY.  XIX 

aess,  and  force ;  thougli  it  is  somewhat  clilffuse,  and  the  abstract 
nature  of  some  of  his  topics  occasionally  renders  his  thought  diffi- 
cult of  apprehension.  His  treatment  of  his  subjects  is  generally 
thorough  and  sometimes  exhaustive ;  his  arguments  are  always 
ingenious  if  not  always  convincing ;.  his  illustrations  are  drawn 
from  almost  every  accessible  field  of  human  knowledge,  and  his 
method  of  "  putting  things  "  is  such  as  to  make  the  most  of  his 
materials.  He  is  undoubtedly  entitled  to  a  high  rank  among  the 
speculative  and  philosophic  writers  of  the  presennt  day.  *  *  * 
In  Mr.  Spencer  we  have  the  example  of  a  positivist,  who  does 
not  treat  the  subject  of  religion  with  supercilious  neglect,  and 
who  illustrates  by  his  own  method  of  reasoning  upon  the  highest 
objects  of  human  thought,  the  value  of  those  metaphysical  studies 
which  it  is  so  much  the  fashion  of  his  school  to  deciy.  For  both 
these  reasons  the  volume,  which  we  now  propose  to  examine, 
deserves  the  careful  attention  of  the  theologian  who  desires  to 
know  what  one  of  the  strongest  thinkers  of  his  school,  commonly 
thought  atheistic  in  its  tendencies,  can  say  in  behalf  of  our  ulti- 
mate religious  ideas.  For  if  we  mistake  not,  in  spite  of  the  veiy 
negative  character  of  his  own  results,  he  has  furnished  some 
strong  arguments  for  the  doctrine  of  a  positive  Christian  theo- 
logy. We  shall  be  mistaken  if  we  expect  to  find  him  carelessly 
passing  these  matters  by  (religious  faith  and  theological  science) 
as  in  all  respects  beyond  knowledge  and  of  no  practical  concern. 
On  the  contrary,  he  gives  them  profound  attention,  and  arrives 
at  conclusions  in  regard  to  them  which  even  the  Christian  theolo- 
gian must  allow  to  contain  a  large  measure  of  truth.  While 
showing  the  unsearchcible  nature  of  the  ultimate  facts  on  which 
religion  depends,  he  demonstrates  their  real  existence  and  their 
great  importance.  *  *  *  i^  answering  these  questions  Mr. 
Spencer  has,  we  think,  arrived  nearer  to  a  true  philosophy  than 
either  Hamilton  or  Mansel.  At  least  he  has  indicated  in  a  more 
satisfactory  manner  than  they  have  done,  the  positive  datum  of 
consciousness  that  the  unconditioned,  though  inscrutable,  exists. 
It  may  be  said  that  Mr.  Spencer  is  not  chargeable  with  excluding 
God  from  the  universe,  or  denying  all  revelation  of  Him  in  His 
works,  since  he  earnestly  defends  the  truth  that  an  inscrutable 
power  is  shown  to  exist.     We  certainly  would  not  charge  him 


zx 

with  theoretical  atheism,  holding  as  he  does  this  ultimate  reli- 
gious idea. 

From  the  North  American  Review. 

The  law  of  organic  development  announced  in  the  early  part 
of  the  present  century,  by  Goethe,  Schelling,  and  Von  Baer,  and 
Taguely  expressed  in  the  formula,  that '"  evolution  is  always  from 
the  homogenous  to  the  heterogeneous,  and  from  the  simple  to  the 
complex,"  has  recently  been  extended  by  Herbert  Spencer  so  as 
to  include  all  phenomena  whatsoever.  He  has  shown  that  this 
law  of  evolution  is  the  law  of  all  evolution.  Whether  it  be  in  the 
development  of  the  earth  or  of  life  upon  its  surface,  in  the  devel- 
opment of  Society,  of  government,  of  manufactures,  of  commerce, 
of  language,  literature,  science  and  art,  this  same  advance  from 
the  simple  to  the  complex,  through  successive  differentiations, 
holds  unifoi-mly.  The  stupendous  induction  from  all  classes  of 
phenomena  by  which  Mr.  Spencer  proceeds  to  establish  and  illus- 
trate his  theorem  cannot  be  given  here. 

From  the  Christian  Spectator  {English), 
Mr.  Spencer  claims  for  his  view  that  it  is  not  only  a  religious 
position,  but  preeminently  the  religious  position  ;  and  we  are  most 
thoroughly  disposed  to  agree  with  him,  though  we  think  he  does 
not  appreciate  the  force  of  his  own  argument,  nor  fully  under- 
stand his  own  words.  For  let  us  now  attempt  to  realize  the 
meaning  of  this  fact,  of  which  Mr.  Spencer  and  his  compeers  have 
put  us  in  possession  ;  let  us  endeavour  to  see  whether  its  bearings 
are  really  favorable  or  adverse  to  religion.  They  are  put  forward 
indeed  avowedly  as  adverse  to  any  other  religion  than  a  mere 
reverential  acquiescence  in  ignorance  concerning  all  that  truly 
exists  ;  but  it  appears  to  us  that  this  supposed  opposition  to  reli- 
gion arises  from  the  fact  that  the  doctrine  itself  is  so  profoundly, 
BO  intensely,  so  overwhelmingly  religious,  nay,  so  utterly  and  en- 
tirely Ckristiax,  that  its  true  meaning  could  not  be  seen  for  very 
glory.  Like  Moses,  when  he  came  down  from  the  Mount,  this 
positive  philosophy  comes  with  a  veil  over  its  face,  that  its  too 
divine  radiance  may  be  hidden  for  a  time.  This  is  Science  that 
has  been  conversing  with  God,  and  brings  in  her  hand  His  law 
written  on  tables  of  stone. 


NEW    SYSTEM   OF    PHILOSOPHY.  XXl 

From  the  Reader. 

To  answer  tlie  question  of  tlie  likelihood  of  the  permanence 
of  Mr.  Mill's  philosophic  reign,  *  *  *  ^e  should  have  to  take 
account,  among  other  things,  of  the  differences  from  Mr.  Mill 
already  shown  by  the  extraordinarily  able  and  peculiarly  original 
thinker  whose  name  we  have  associated  with  Mr.  Mill's  at  the 
head  of  this  article.  We  may  take  occasion,  at  another  time,  to 
call  attention  to  these  speculations  of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  whose 
works  in  the  meantime,  and  especially  that  new  one  whose  title 
we  have  cited,  we  recommend  to  all  those,  select  readers  whose 
appreciation  of  masterly  exposition,  and  great  reach  and  boldness 
of  generalization,  does  not  depend  on  their  mere  disposition  to 
agree  with  the  doctrines  propounded. 

From  the  British  Quarterly  Revieio. 

Complete  in  itself,  it  is  at  the  same  time  but  a  part  of  a  whole, 
which,  if  it  should  be  constructed  in  proportion,  will  be  ten  times 
as  great.  For  these  First  Principles  are  merely  the  foundation 
of  a  system  of  philosophy,  bolder,  more  elaborate  and  comprehen- 
sive, perhaps,  than  any  other  which  has  been  hitherto  designed 
in  England.  *  *  *  Widely  as  it  will  be  seen  we  diflfer  from 
the  author  on  some  points,  we  very  sincerely  hope  he  may  succeed 
in  accomplishing  the  bold  and  magnificent  project  he  has 
mapped  out. 

From  the  Cornhill  Magazine. 

Our  "  Survey,"  suj)erficial  as  it  is,  must  include  at  least  the 
mention  of  a  work  so  lofty  in  aim,  and  so  remarkable  in  execu- 
tion as  the  system  of  Philosophy  which  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  is 
issuing  to  subscribers.  *  *  *  In  sjDite  of  all  dissidence  respect- 
ing the  conclusions,  the  serious  reader  will  applaud  the  profound 
earnestness  and  thoroughness  with  which  these  conclusions  are 
advocated ;  the  universal  scientific  knowledge  brought  t(5  bear  on 
them  by  way  of  illustration,  and  the  acute  and  subtle  thinking 
displayed  in  every  chapter. 

From  the  Parthenon. 
By  these  books  he  has  wedged  his  way  into  fame  in  a  manner 
distinctly  original,  and  curiously  marked.     *     *    *    There  is  a 


xxii 


peculiar  cliarm  in  this  author's  style,  in  that  it  sacrifices  to  no 
common  taste,  -while  at  the  same  time  it  makes  the  most  abstruse 
questions  intelligible.  *  *  *  The  book,  if  it  is  to  be  noticed 
with  the  slightest  degree  of  fairness,  requires  to  be  read  and  re- 
read, to  be  studied  apart  from  itself  and  with  itself.  For  what- 
ever may  be  its  ultimate  fate — although  as  the  ages  go  on  it  shall 
become  but  as  the  lispings  of  a  little  child,  a  little  more  educated 
than  other  lisping  children  of  the  same  time — this  is  certain,  that, 
as  a  book  addressed  to  the  present,  it  lifts  the  mind  far  above  the 
ordinary  range  of  thought,  suggests  new  associations,  arranges 
chaotic  pictures,  strikes  often  a  broad  harmony,  and  even  moves 
the  heart  by  an  intellectual  struggle  as  passionless  as  fate,  but  as 
irresistible  as  time. 

From  the  Critic. 

Mr.  Spencer  is  the  foremost  mind  of  the  only  j)hilosophical 
school  in  England  which  has  arrived  at  a  consistent  scheme 
*  *  *  Beyond  this  school  we  encounter  an  indolent  chaotic 
electicism.  Mr.  Spencer  claims  the  respect  due  to  distinct  and 
daring  individuality ;  others  are  echoes  or  slaves.  Mr.  Spencer 
may  be  a  usurper,  but  he  has  the  voice  and  gesture  of  a  king. 

From  the  Medico-  Ghirurgical  Review. 

INIr.  Spencer  is  equally  remarkable  for  his  search  after  first 
principles ;  for  his  acute  attempts  to  decompose  mental  phenomena 
into  their  primary  elements  ;  and  for  his  broad  generalizations  of 
mental  activity,  viewed  in  connection  with  nature,  instinct,  and 
al'  the  analogies  presented  by  life  in  its  universal  aspects. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 


The  essays  contained  in  tlie  present  volume  were 
first  published  in  the  English  periodicals — chieflj  the 
Quarterly  Reviews.  They  contain  ideas  of  perma- 
nent interest,  and  display  an  amount  of  thought  and 
labor  evidently  much  greater  than  is  usually  bestowed 
on  review  articles.  They  were  written  with  a  view  to 
ultimate  republication  in  an  enduring  form,  and  were 
issued  in  London  with  several  other  papers,  under  the 
title  of  '^  Essays  ;  Scientific,  Political,  and  Speculative," 
first  and  second  series  ; — the  former  appearing  in  1857, 
and  the  latter  in  1863. 

The  interest  created  in  Mr.  Spencer's  writings  by 
the  publication  in  this  country  of  his  valuable  work  on 
"  Education,"  and  by  criticisms  of  his  other  works,  has 
created  a  demand  for  these  discussions  which  can  only 
be  supplied  by  their  republication.  They  are  now, 
however,  issued  in  a  new  form,  and  are  more  suited  to 
develop  the  author's  purpose  in  their  preparation ;  for 


XXIV 


wliile  each  of  these  essays  has  its  intrinsic  and  inde- 
pendent claims  upon  the  reader's  attention,  they  are  all 
at  the  same  time  but  parts  of  a  connected  and  compre- 
hensive argument.  Nearly  all  of  Mr.  Spencer's  essays 
have  relations  more  or  less  direct  to  the  general  doc- 
trine of  Evolution — a  doctrine  which  he  has  probably 
done  more  to  unfold  and  illustrate  than  any  other 
thinker.  The  papers  comprised  in  the  present  volume 
are  those  which  deal  ^vith  the  subject  in  its  most  ob- 
vious and  prominent  aspects. 

Although  the  argument  contained  in  the  first  essay 
on  "  Progress  ;  its  Law  and  Cause,"  has  been  published 
in  an  amplified  form  in  the  author's  "  First  Principles," 
it  has  been  thought  best  to  prefix  it  to  the  present  col- 
lection as  a  key  to  the  full  interpretation  of  the  other 
essays. 

To  those  who  read  this  volume  its  commendation 
will  be  superfluous ;  we  will  only  say  that  those  who 
become  interested  in  his  course  of  thought  will  find  it 
completely  elaborated  in  his  new  System  of  Philos- 
ophy, now  in  course  of  publication. 

The  remaining  articles  of  Mr.  Spencer's  first  and 
second  series  will  be  shortly  published,  in  a  volume  en- 
titled "  Essays  ;  Moral,  Political,  and  ^Esthetic." 

New  York,  Marc\  1864.  , 


co:tTTE]srTs. 


PAOK 

I. — Peogress  :  Its  Law  and  Cause,        .        .        •  1 

II. — JMannees  and  Fashion, 61 

ni. — The  Genesis  of  Science, 116 

TV. — The  Physiology  of  Laughtee,      .        .        .        .  194 

Y. — The  Oeigin  and  Function  of  Music,        .        .        .210 

VI. — The  ISTebular  Hypothesis,             .        .         -        .  239 

VII. — Bain  on  the  Emotions  and  the  Will,       .        .        .  288 

VIII. — Illogical  Geology, 313 

IX. — The  Development  Hypothesis,  .        .        .        .365 

X. — The  Social  Organism,            372 

XI. — Use  and  Beauty, 417 

XII. — ^The  Soueces  of  Aechitectueal  Types,         .        .  422 

XIII. — The  Use  of  Antheopomoephism,       ....  428 


I. 

PROGRESS  :  ITS  LAW  AND  CAUSE. 


^"1HE  current  conception  of  Progress  is  somewhat  shift- 
_  ing  and  indefinite.  Sometimes  it  comprehends  little 
more  than  simple  growth — as  of  a  nation  in  the  number  of 
its  members  and  the  extent  of  territory  over  which  it  has 
spread.  Sometimes  it  has  reference  to  quantity  of  material 
products — as  when  the  advance  of  agriculture  and  manu- 
factures is  the  topic.  Sometimes  the  superior  quality  of 
these  products  is  contemplated  :  and  sometimes  the  new  or 
improved  appHances  by  which  they  are  produced.  When, 
again,  we  speak  of  moral  or  intellectual  progress,  we  refer 
to  the  state  of  the  individual  or  people  exhibiting  it ;  while, 
when  the  progress  of  Knowledge,  of  Science,  of  Art,  ii 
commented  upon,  we  have  in  view  certain  abstract  results 
of  human  thought  and  action.  Not  only,  however,  is  the 
current  conception  of  Progress  more  or  less  vague,  but  it 
is  in  great  measure  erroneous.  It  takes  in  not  so  much  the 
reahty  of  Progress  as  its  accompaniments — not  so  much 
Ihe  substance  as  the  shadow.  That  progress  in  intelligence 
Boen  during  the  growth  of  the  child  into  the  man,  or  the 
savage  into  the  philosopher,  is  commonly  regarded  as  con- 
Bisthig  in  the  greater  number  of  facts  known  and  laws 
1 


2  PKOGKESS :  rrs  law  and  cause. 

understood  :  whereas  the  nctiml  progress  consists  in  those 
internal  modifications  of  wliich  this  increased  knowledge 
is  the  expression.  Social  progress  is  supposed  to  consist  in 
the  produce  of  a  greater  quantity  and  variety  of  the  arti- 
cles required  for  satisfying  men's  wants  ;  in  the  increasing 
security  of  person  and  property ;  in  widening  freedom  of 
action  :  whereas,  rightly  understood,  social  progress  con- 
^asts  in  those  changes  of  structure  in  the  social  organism 
M'hich  have  entailed  these  consequences.  The  current  con- 
ception is  a  teleological  one.  The  phenomena  are  contem- 
plated solely  as  bearing  on  human  happiness.  Only  those 
changes  are  held  to  constitute  progress  which  directly  or 
indirectly  tend  to  heighten  human  happiness.  And  they 
are  thought  to  constitute  progress  simply  because  they  tend 
to  heighten  human  happiness.  But  rightly  to  understand 
progress,  we  must  inquire  what  is  the  nature  of  these 
changes,  considered  apart  from  our  interests.  Ceasing,  for 
example,  to  regard  the  successive  geological  modifications 
that  have  taken  place  in  the  Earth,  as  modifications  that 
have  gradually  fitted  it  for  the  habitation  of  Man,  and  as 
therefore  a  geological  progress,  we  must  seek  to  determine 
the  character  common  to  these  modifications — the  law  to 
which  they  all  conform.  And  similarly  in  every  other  case. 
Leaving  out  of  sight  concomitants  and  beneficial  conse- 
quences, let  us  ask  what  Progress  is  in  itself. 

In  respect  to  that  progress  which  individual  organisms 
display  in  the  course  of  their  evolution,  this  question  has 
been  answ^ered  by  the  Germans.  The  investigations  of 
Wolff",  Goethe,  and  Yon  Baer,  have  established  the  truth 
that  the  series  of  changes  gone  through  during  the  devel- 
opment of  a  seed  into  a  tree,  or  an  ovum  into  an  animal, 
constitute  an  advance  from  homogeneity  of  structure  to 
heterogeneity  of  structure.  In  its  primary  stage,  every 
germ  consists  of  a  substance  that  is  uniform  throughout, 
both  in  texture  and  chemical  composition.     The  first  step 


IN  WHAT  PEOGEESS   CONSISTS.  3 

IS  the  api^earance  of  a  difference  between  two  parts  of  this 
substance  ;  or,  as  the  phenomenon  is  called  in  physiological 
language,  a  differentiation.  Each  of  these  differentiated 
divisions  presently  begins  itself  to  exhibit  some  contrast  of 
parts ;  and  by  and  by  these  secondary  differentiations  be- 
come as  definite  as  the  original  one.  This  process  is  con* 
tinv.ously  repeated — is  simultaneously  going  on  in  all  parts 
of  the  growing  embryo ;  and  by  endless  such  differentia- 
tions there  is  finally  produced  that  complex  combination  of 
tissues  and  organs  constituting  the  adult  animal  or  plant. 
This  is  the  history  of  all  organisms  whatever.  It  is  settled 
beyond  dispute  that  organic  progress  consists  in  a  change 
from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous. 

Now,  w^e  propose  in  the  first  place  to  show,  that  this 
law  of  organic  progress  is  the  law  of  all  progress.  Whether 
it  be  in  the  development  of  the  Earth,  in  the  development 
of  Life  upon  its  surface,  in  the  development  of  Society,  of 
Government,  of  Manufactures,  of  Commerce,  of  Language, 
Literature,  Science,  Art,  this  same  evolution  of  the  simple 
i-nto  the  complex,  through  successive  differentiations,  holds 
throughout.  From  the  earliest  traceable  cosmical  changes 
down  to  the  latest  results  of  civilization,  we  shall  find  that 
the  transformation  of  the  homogeneous  into  the  heteroge- 
neous, is  that  in  which  Progress  essentially  consists. 

With  the  view  of  showing  that  if  the  Nebular  Hypoth- 
esis be  true,  the  genesis  of  the  solar  system  supplies  one 
illustration  of  this  law,  let  us  assume  that  the  matter  of 
which  the  sun  and  j^lanets  consist  was  once  in  a  diffused 
form ;  and  that  from  the  gravitation  of  its  atoms  there 
resulted  a  gradual  concentration.  By  the  hypothesis,  the 
solar  system  in  its  nascent'  state  existed  as  an  indefinitely 
extended  and  nearly  homogeneous  medium — a  medium 
almost  homogeneous  in  density,  in  temperature,  and  in 
otlier  physical  attributes.  The  first  advance  towards  con- 
solidation resulted  in  a  differentiation  between  the  occupied 


4  PKOGEESS  :    ITS    LAAV    AND   CAUSE. 

space  which  the  nebulous  mass  still  filled,  and  the  unoccu* 
pied  space  which  it  previously  filled.  There  simultaneously 
resulted  a  contrast  in  density  and  a  contrast  in  tempera- 
ture, between  the  interior  and  the  exterior  of  this  mass. 
And  at  the  same  time  there  arose  throughout  it  rotatory 
movements,  whose  velocities  varied  according  to  their  dis- 
tances from  its  centre.  These  differentiations  increased  in 
number  and  degree  until  there  was  evolved  the  organized 
grouj)  of  sun,  planets,  and  satellites,  which  we  now  know — 
a  group  which  presents  numerous  contrasts  of  structure 
and  action  among  its  members.  There  are  the  immense 
contrasts  between  the  sun  and  planets,  in  bulk  and  in 
weight ;  as  well  as  the  subordinate  contrasts  between  one 
planet  and  another,  and  between  the  planets  and  their  sat- 
ellites. There  is  the  similarly  marked  contrast  between 
the  sun  as  almost  stationary,  and  the  planets  as  moving 
round  him  with  great  velocity ;  while  there  are  the  sec- 
ondary contrasts  between  the  velocities  and  periods  of  the 
several  planets,  and  between  their  simple  revolutions  and 
the  double  ones  of  their  satellites,  which  have  to  move 
round  their  primaries  while  moving  round  the  sun.  There 
is  the  yet  further  strong  contrast  between  the  sun  and  the 
planets  in  resj^ect  of  temperature ;  and  there  is  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  planets  and  satellites  differ  from  each 
other  in  their  proper  heat,  as  well  as  in  the  heat  they  re- 
ceive from  the  sun. 

When  we  bear  in  mind  that,  in  addition  to  these  various 
contrasts,  the  planets  and  satellites  also  differ  in  respect  to 
their  distances  from  each  other  and  their  primary ;  in  respect 
to  the  inclinations  of  their  orbits,  the  inclinations  of  their 
axes,  their  times  of  rotation  on  their  axes,  their  specific  grav- 
ities, and  their  physical  constitutions ;  we  see  what  a  high 
degree  of  heterogeneity  the  solar  system  exhibits,  when 
compared  with  the  almost  complete  homogeneity  of  the 
nebulous  mass  out  of  which  it  is  supposed  to  have  originated. 


GEOLOGICAL  PROGRESS  OF  THE  EARTH.         5 

Passing  from  this  hypothetical  illustration,  which  must 
be  taken  for  what  it  is  worth,  without  prejudice  to  the 
general  argument,  let  us  descend  to  a  more  certain  order 
of  evidence.  It  is  now  generally  agreed  among  geologists 
that  the  Earth  was  at  first  a  mass  of  molten  matter ;  and 
that  it  is  still  fluid  and  incandescent  at  the  distance  of  a  few 
miles  beneath  its  surface.  Originally,  then,  it  was  homo- 
geneous in  consistence,  and,  in  virtue  of  the  circulation 
that  takes  place  in  heated  fluids,  must  have  been  compara- 
tively homogeneous  in  temperature  ;  and  it  must  have  been 
surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  consisting  partly  of  the  ele- 
ments of  air  and  water,  and  partly  of  those  various  other 
elements  which  assume  a  gaseous  form  at  high  tempera- 
tures. That  slow  cooling  by  radiation  which  is  still  going 
on  at  an  inappreciable  rate,  and  which,  though  originally 
far  more  rapid  than  now,  necessarily  required  an  immense 
time  to  produce  any  decided  change,  must  ultimately  have 
resulted  in  the  solidification  of  the  portion  most  able  to 
part  with  its  heat — ^namely,  the  surface.  In  the  thin  crust 
thus  formed  we  have  the  first  marked  difierentiation.  A  still 
further  cooling,  a  consequent  thickening  of  this  crust,  and  an 
accompanying  deposition  of  all  solidifiable  elements  con 
tained  in  the  atmosphere,  must  finally  have  been  followed 
by  the  condensation  of  the  water  previously  existing  as 
vapour.  A  second  marked  differentiation  must  thus  have 
arisen :  and  as  the  condensation  must  have  taken  place  on 
the  coolest  parts  of  the  surface — namely,  about  the  poles — 
there  must  thus  have  resulted  the  first  geographical  dis- 
tinction of  parts.  To  these  illustrations  of  growing  hete- 
rogeneity, which,  though  deduced  from  the  known  laws  of 
matter,  may  be  regarded  as  more  or  less  hypothetical, 
Geology  adds  an  extensive  series  that  have  been  inductively 
established.  Its  investigations  show  that  the  Earth  has 
been  continually  becoming  more  heterogeneous  in  virtue 
of  the  multij^lication  of  the  strata  which  form  its  crust ; 


6  PROGKESS :  US  law  and  cause. 

further,  that  it  has  been  becoming  more  heterogeneous  in 
respect  of  the  composition  of  these  strata,  the  latter  of 
which,  being  made  from  the  detritus  of  the  older  ones,  are 
many  of  them  rendered  highly  complex  by  the  mixture  of 
materials  they  contain ;  and  that  this  heterogeneity  has 
been  vastly  increased  by  the  action  of  the  Earth's  still 
molten  nucleus  upon  its  envelope,  whence  have  resulted 
not  only  a  great  variety  of  igneous  rocks,  but  the  tilting 
up  of  sedimentary  strata  at  all  angles,  the  formation  of 
fiiults  and  metallic  veins,  the  production  of  endless  disloca- 
tions and  irregularities.  Yet  again,  geologists  teach  us 
that  the  Earth's  surface  has  been  growing  more  varied  in 
elevation — that  the  most  ancient  mountain  systems  are  the 
smallest,  and  the  Andes  and  Himalayas  the  most  modern  ; 
while  in  all  probability  there  have  been  correspondmg 
changes  in  the  bed  of  the  ocean.  As  a  consequence  of 
these  ceaseless  differentiations,  we  now  find  that  no  consid- 
erable portion  of  the  Earth's  exposed  surface  is  like  any 
other  portion,  either  in  contour,  in  geologic  structure,  or 
in  chemical  composition ;  and  that  in  most  parts  it  changes 
from  mile  to  mile  in  all  these  characteristics. 

Moreover,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  there  has  been 
simultaneously  going  on  a  gradual  differentiation  of  climates. 
As  fast  as  the  Earth  cooled  and  its  crust  solidified,  there  arose 
appreciable  differences  in  temperature  between  those  parts 
of  its  surface  most  exposed  to  the  sun  and  those  less  exposed. 
Gradually,  as  the  cooling  progressed,  these  differences  be- 
came more  pronounced ;  until  there  finally  resulted  those 
marked  contrasts  between  regions  of  perpetual  ice  and 
snow,  regions  where  winter  and  summer  alternately  reign 
for  periods  varying  according  to  the  latitude,  and  regions 
where  summer  follows  summer  with  scarcely  an  appreciable 
variation.  At  the  same  time  the  successive  elevations  and 
subsidences  of  different  portions  of  the  Earth's  crust,  tend- 
ing as  they  have  done  to  the  present  irregular  distribution 


PROGRESS   OF   TEREESTRIAL   LIFE  7 

of  land  and  sea,  have  entailed  various  modifications  of  cli- 
mate beyond  those  dependent  on  latitude ;  while  a  yet  fur- 
ther series  of  such  modifications  have  been  produced  by 
increasing  differences  of  elevation  in  the  land,  which  have 
in  sundry  places  brought  arctic,  temperate,  and  tropical 
climates  to  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other.  And  the 
general  result  of  these  changes  is,  that  not  only  has  every 
extensive  region  its  own  meteorologic  conditions,  but  that 
every  locality  in  each  region  differs  more  or  less  from  oth- 
ers in  those  conditions,  as  in  its  structure,  its  contour,  its 
soil.  Thus,  between  our  existing  Earth,  the  i^henomena  of 
whose  varied  crust  neither  geographers,  geologists,  miner- 
alogists, nor  meteorologists  have  yet  enumerated,  and  the 
molten  globe  out  of  which  it  was  evolved,  the  contrast  in 
heterogeneity  is  sufficiently  striking. 

When  from  the  Earth  itself  we  larn  to  the  plants  and 
animals  that  have  lived,  or  still  live,  upon  its  surface,  we 
find  ourselves  in  some  difficulty  from  lack  of  facts.  Tliat 
every  existing  organism  has  been  developed  out  of  the 
simple  into  the  complex,  is  indeed  the  first  established 
truth  of  all ;  and  that  every  organism  that  has  existed  was 
similarly  developed,  is  an  inference  which  no  physiologist 
will  hesitate  to  draw.  But  when  we  pass  from  individual 
forms  of  life  to  Life  in  general,  and  inquire  whether  the 
same  law  is  seen  in  the  ensemble  of  its  manifestations, — 
wnether  modern  plants  and  animals  are  of  more  hetero- 
geneous structure  than  ancient  ones,  and  whether  the 
Earth's  present  Flora  and  Fauna  are  more  heterogeneous 
than  the  Flora  and  Fauna  of  the  past, — we  find  the  evi- 
dence so  fragmentary,  that  every  conclusion  is  open  to 
dispute.  Two-thirds  of  the  Earth's  surface  being  covered 
by  water ;  a  great  part  of  the  exposed  land  being  inaccess- 
ible to,  or  untravelled  by,  the  geologist ;  the  greater  part 
of  the  remainder  having  been  scarcely  more  than  glanced 
at ;  and  even  the  most  famiUar  portions,  as  England,  hav- 


8  PROGRESS  :    ITS    LAW    AND   CAUSE. 

ing  been  so  imperfectly  explored  that  a  new  series  of  strata 
has  been  added  within  these  four  years, — it  is  manifestly 
impossible  for  us  to  say  with  any  certainty  what  creatures 
have,  and  what  have  not,  existed  at  any  particular  period. 
Considering  the  perishable  nature  of  many  of  the  lower 
organic  forms,  the  metamorphosis  of  many  sedimentary 
strata,  and  the  gaps  that  occur  among  the  rest,  we  shall 
see  further  reason  for  distrusting  our  deductions.  On  the 
one  hand,  the  repeated  discovery  of  vertebrate  remains  in 
strata  previously  supposed  to  contain  none, — of  reptiles 
where  only  fish  were  thought  to  exist, — of  mammals  where 
it  was  believed  there  were  no  creatures  higher  than  rep- 
tiles,— renders  it  daily  more  manifest  how  small  is  the 
value  of  negative  evidence. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  worthlessness  of  the  assumption 
that  we  have  discovered  the  earliest,  or  anything  like  the 
earliest,  organic  remains,  is  becoming  equally  clear.  That 
the  oldest  known  sedimentary  rocks  have  been  greatly 
changed  by  igneous  action,  and  that  still  older  ones  have 
been  totally  transformed  by  it,  is  becoming  undeniable. 
And  the  fact  that  sedimentary  strata  earlier  than  any  we 
know,  have  been  melted  up,  being  admitted,  it  must  also 
be  admitted  that  we  cannot  say  how  far  back  in  time  this 
destruction  of  sedimentary  strata  has  been  going  on.  Thus 
it  is  manifest  that  the  title,  Palmozoic^  as  applied  to  the 
earliest  known  fossiliferous  strata,  involves  ?i  ijetitio  princi' 
pli  y  and  that,  for  aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  only  the 
last  few  chapters  of  the  Earth's  biological  history  may  have 
come  down  to  us.  On  neither  side,  therefore,  is  the  evi- 
dence conclusive.  Nevertheless  we  cannot  but  think  that, 
scanty  as  they  are,  the  facts,  taken  altogether,  tend  to  show 
both  that  the  more  heterogeneous  organisms  have  been 
evolved  in  the  later  geologic  periods,  and  that  Life  in 
general  has  been  more  heterogeneously  manifested  as  time 
has  advanced.     Let  us  cite,  in  illustration,  the  one  case  of 


ADVANCE   OF   THE   ANIMAL   KACES.  9 

the  vertebrata. .  The  earliest  kno\Yn  vertebrate  remainj,  .tro 
those  of  Fishes  ;  and  Fishes  are  the  most  homogeneous  of 
the  vertebrata.  Later  and  more  heterogeneous  are  Rep- 
tiles. Later  still,  and  more  heterogeneous  still,  are  Mam- 
mals and  Birds.  If  it  be  said,  as  it  may  fairly  be  said,  that 
the  Palaeozoic  deposits,  not  being  estuary  deposits,  are  not 
likely  to  contain  the  remains  of  terrestrial  vertebrata,  which 
may  nevertheless  have  existed  at  that  era,  we  reply  that  we 
are  merely  pointing  to  the  leading  facts,  such  as  they  are. 
But  to  avoid  any  such  criticism,  let  us  take  the  mam- 
malian subdivision  only.  The  earliest  known  remains  of 
mammals  are  those  of  small  marsupials,  which  are  the  low- 
est of  the  mammalian  type ;  while,  conversely,  the  highest 
of  the  mammahan  type — Man — is  the  most  recent.  The 
evidence  that  the  vertebrate  fauna,  as  a  whole,  has  become 
more  heterogeneous,  is  considerably  stronger.  To  the 
argument  that  the  vertebrate  fauna  of  the  Palaeozoic  period, 
consisting,  so  far  as  we  know,  entirely  of  Fishes,  was  less 
heterogeneous  than  the  modern  vertebrate  fauna,  which 
includes  Reptiles,  Birds,  and  Mammals,  of  multitudinous 
genera,  it  may  be  replied,  as  before,  that  estuary  deposits 
of  the  Palgeozoic  period,  could  we  find  them,  might  contain 
other  orders  of  vertebrata.  But  no  such  reply  can  be  made 
to  the  argument  that  whereas  the  marine  vertebrata  of  the 
Palaeozoic  period  consisted  entirely  of  cartilaginous  fishes, 
the  marine  vertebrata  of  later  periods  include  numerous 
genera  of  osseous  fishes ;  and  that,  therefore,  the  later 
marine  vertebrate  faunas  are  more  heterogeneous  than  the 
oldest  known  one.  Nor,  again,  can  any  such  re23ly  be  made 
to  the  fact  that  there  are  far  more  numerous  orders  and 
genera  of  mammalian  remains  in  the  tertiary  formations  than 
in  the  secondary  formations.  Did  we  wisix  merely  to  make 
out  the  best  case,  we  might  dwell  upon  the  opinion  of  Dr. 
Carpenter,  who  says  that  "  the  general  facts  of  Palaeontol- 
ogy appear  to  sanction  the  belief,  that  the  same  plan  may 
1* 


10  PKOGEESS  :    ITS    LAW    AND    CAUSE. 

be  traced  out  in  what  may  be  called  the  general  life  of  tJie 
glohe^  as  in  the  individual  life  of  every  one  of  the  forms  of 
organized  being  which  now  people  it."  Or  we  might  quote, 
as  decisive,  the  judgment  of  Professor  Owen,  who  holds 
that  the  earlier  examples  of  each  group  of  creatures  sever- 
ally departed  less  widely  from  archetypal  generality  than 
the  later  ones — were  severally  less  unlike  the  fundamental 
form  common  to  the  group  as  a  whole ;  that  is  to  say — 
constituted  a  less  heterogeneous  group  of  creatures ;  and 
who  further  upholds  the  doctrine  of  a  biological  progres- 
sion. But  in  deference  to  an  authority  for  whom  we  have 
the  highest  respect,  who  considers  that  the  evidence  at 
present  obtained  does  not  justify  a  verdict  either  waj^,  we 
are  content  to  leave  the  question  open. 

Whether  an  advance   from   the  homosreneous  to  the 

o 

heterogeneous  is  or  is  not  displayed  in  the  biological  his- 
tory of  the  globe,  it  is  clearly  enough  displayed  in  the 
progress  of  the  latest  and  most  heterogeneous  creature — 
Man.  It  is  alike  true  that,  during  the  jDcriod  in  which  the 
Earth  has  been  peopled,  the  human  organism  has  grown 
more  heterogeneous  among  the  civilized  divisions  of  the 
species ;  and  that  the  species,  as  a  whole,  has  been  grow- 
ing more  heterogeneous  in  virtue  of  the  multiplication  of 
races  and  the  differentiation  of  these  races  from  each 
other. 

In  proof  of  the  first  of  these  positions,  we  may  cite 
the  fact  that,  in  the  relative  development  of  the  limbs,  the 
civilized  man  departs  more  widely  from  the  general  type 
of  the  placental  mammalia  than  do  the  lower  human  races. 
While  often  possessing  well-developed  body  and  arms,  the 
Papuan  has  extremely  small  legs :  thus  reminding  us  of 
the  quadrumana,  in  which  there  is  no  great  contrast  in 
size  between  the  hind  and  fore  limbs.  But  in  the  Eu- 
ropean, the  greater  length  and  massiveness  of  the  legs  has 
become  very  marked — the  fore  and  hind  limbs  are  rela- 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   THE    CIVILIZED    KACES.  11 

tively  more  heterogeneous.  Again,  the  greater  ratio 
which  the  cranial  bones  bear  to  the  facial  bones  illustrates 
the  same  truth.  Among  the  vertebrata  in  general,  pro- 
gress is  marked  by  an  increasing  heterogeneity  in  the  verte- 
bral column,  and  more  especially  in  the  vertebra)  constitut- 
ing the  skull :  the  higher  forms  being  distinguished  by  the 
relatively  larger  size  of  the  bones  which  cover  the  brain, 
and  the  relatively  smaller  size  of  those  which  form  the 
jaw,  &G.  Now,  this  characteristic,  which  is  stronger  in 
Man  than  in  any  other  creature,  is  stronger  in  the  European 
than  m  the  savage.  Moreover,  judging  from  the  greater 
extent  and  variety  of  faculty  he  exhibits,  we  may  infer  that 
the  civilized  man  has  also  a  more  complex  or  hetero- 
geneous nervous  system  than  the  uncivilized  man  :  and 
indeed  the  fact  is  in  part  visible  in  the  increased  ratio 
which  his  cerebrum  bears  to  the  subjacent  ganglia. 

If  further  elucidation  be  needed,  we  may  find  it  in  every 
nursery.  The  infant  European  has  sundry  marked  points 
of  resemblance  to  the  lower  human  races ;  as  in  the  flat- 
ness of  the  alse  of  the  nose,  the  depression  of  its  bridge, 
the  divergence  and  forward  opening  of  the  nostrils,  the 
form  of  the  lips,  the  absence  of  a  frontal  sinus,  the  width 
between  the  eyes,  the  smallness  of  the  legs.  Now,  as  the 
developmental  process  by  which  these  traits  are  turned  into 
those  of  the  adult  European,  is  a  continuation  of  that 
change  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous  dis- 
played during  the  previous  evolution  of  the  embryo,  which 
every  physiologist  will  admit ;  it  follows  that  the  parallel 
developmental  process  by  which  the  like  traits  of  the  bar- 
barous races  have  been  turned  into  those  of  the  civilized 
races,  has  also  been  a  continuation  of  the  change  from 
the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous.  The  truth  of  the 
second  position — that  Mankind,  as  a  whole,  have  become 
more  heterogeneous — is  so  obvious  as  scarcely  to  need 
illustration.      Every  work   on  Ethnology,  by  its   divisions 


12  PROGKESS  :    ITS    LAW    AND   CAUSE. 

BHcf  subdivisions  of  races,  bears  testimony  to  it.  Even 
were  we  to  admit  the  hypothesis  that  Mankind  originated 
from  several  separate  stocks,  it  would  still  remain  true, 
that  as,  from  each  of  these  stocks,  there  have  sprung  many 
now  widely  diflerent  tribes,  which  are  proved  by  i^hilologi- 
cal  evidence  to  have  had  a  common  origin,  the  race  as  a 
whole  is  far  less  homogeneous  than  it  once  was.  Add  to 
which,  that  we  have,  in  the  Anglo-Americans,  an  example 
of  a  new  variety  arising  within  these  few  generations  ; 
and  that,  if  we  may  trust  to  the  description  of  observers, 
we  are  likely  soon  to  have  another  such  example  in  Aus- 
tralia. 

On  passing  from  Humanity  under  its  individual  form,  to 
Humanity  as  socially  embodied,  we  find  the  general  law  still 
more  variously  exemplified.  The  change  from  the  homo- 
geneous to  the  heterogeneous  is  displayed  equally  in  the 
progress  of  civilization  as  a  whole,  and  in  the  progress  of 
every  tribe  or  nation  ;  and  is  still  going  on  with  increasing 
rapidity.  As  we  see  in  existing  barbarous  tribes,  society 
in  its  first  and  lowest  form  is  a  homogeneous  aggregation 
of  individuals,  having  like  powers  and  like  functions :  the 
only  marked  difference  of  function  being  that  which  accom- 
panies difference  of  sex.  Every  man  is  warrior,  hunter, 
fisherman,  tool-maker,  builder  ;  every  woman  performs 
the  same  drudgeries  ;  every  family  is  self-sufficing,  and  save 
for  purposes  of  aggression  and  defence,  might  as  well  live 
apart  from  the  rest.  Yery  early,  however,  in  the  j^rocess 
of  social  evolution,  we  find  an  incipient  differentiation  be- 
tween the  governing  and  the  governed.  Some  kind  of 
chieftainship  seems  coeval  with  the  first  advance  from  the 
state  of  separate  wandering  families  to  that  of  a  nomadic 
tribe.  The  authority  of  the  strongest  makes  itself  felt 
%mong  a  body  of  savages  as  in  a  herd  of  animals,  or  a 
posse  of  schoolboys.  At  first,  however,  it  is  indefinite,  un- 
certain ;  is  shared  by  others  of  scarcely  inferior  power ; 


EABLT  EVOLUTION  OF  GOVERNMENTS.        13 

and  is  unaccompanied  by  any  difference  in  occupation  or 
style  of  living :  the  first  ruler  kills  his  own  game,  makes 
his  own  weapons,  builds  his  own  hut,  and  economically  con- 
sidered, does  not  differ  from  others  of  his  tribe.  Gradual- 
ly, as  the  tribe  progresses,  the  contrast  between  the  gov- 
erning and  the  governed  grows  more  decided.  Supreme 
power  becomes  hereditary' in  one  family  ;  the  head  of  that 
family,  ceasing  to  provide  for  his  own  wants,  is  served  by 
others ;  and  he  begins  to  assume  the  sole  office  of  ruling. 

At  the  same  time  there  has  been  arising  a  co-ordinate 
species  of  government — that  of  Religion.  As  all  ancient  re- 
cords and  traditions  prove,  the  earliest  rulers  are  regarded  as 
divine  personages.  The  maxims  and  commands  they  uttered 
during  their  lives  are  held  sacred  after  their  deaths,  and  are 
enforced  by  their  divinely-descended  successors ;  who  in 
their  turns  are  promoted  to  the  pantheon  of  the  race,  there 
to  be  worshipped  and  propitiated  along  with  their  j^rede- 
cessors  :  the  most  ancient  of  whom  is  the  supreme  god,  and 
the  rest  subordinate  gods.  For  a  long  time  these  connate 
forms  of  government — civil  and  religious — continue  closely 
associated.  For  many  generations  the  king  continues  to 
be  the  chief  priest,  and  the  priesthood  to  be  members  of 
the  royal  race.  For  many  ages  religious  law  continues  to 
contain  more  or  less  of  civil  regulation,  and  civil  law  to 
possess  more  or  less  of  religious  sanction  ;  and  even  among 
the  most  advanced  nations  these  two  controllincr  ao-encies 
are  by  no  means  completely  differentiated  from  each  other. 

Having  a  common  root  with  these,  and  gradually  diverg- 
ing from  them,  we  find  yet  another  controlling  agency— that  of 
Manners  or  ceremonial  usages.  All  titles  of  honour  are 
originally  the  names  of  the  god-king ;  afterwards  of  God 
and  the  king ;  still  later  of  persons  of  high  rank ;  and  fin- 
ally come,  some  of  them,  to  be  used  between  man  and  man. 
All  forms  of  complimentary  address  were  at  first  the  ex- 
pressions of  submission  from  prisoners  to  their  conqueror, 


14  PKOGRESS:    ITS    LAW   AXD   CAUSE. 

or  from  subjects  to  their  ruler,  either  human  or  divine — 
expressions  that  were  afterwards  used  to  propitiate  subor- 
dinate authorities,  and  slowly  descended  into  ordinary  inter- 
course. All  mode's  of  salutation  were  once  obeisances  made 
before  the  monarch  and  used  in  worship  of  him  after  his 
death.  Presently  others  of  the  god-descended  race  were  sim- 
ilarly saluted  ;  and  by  degrees  same  of  the  salutations  have 
become  the  due  of  all.*  Thus,  no  sooner  does  the  origmally 
liomogeneous  social  mass  differentiate  into  the  governed  and 
the  governing  parts,  than  this  last  exhibits  an  incipient  dif- 
ferentiation into  religious  and  secular — Church  and  State  ; 
while  at  the  same  time  there  begins  to  be  differentiated 
from  both,  that  less  definite  species  of  government  which 
rules  our  daily  intercourse — a  species  of  government  which, 
as  we  may  see  in  heralds'  colleges,  in  books  of  the  peerage, 
in  masters  of  ceremonies,  is  not  without  a  certain  embodi- 
ment of  its  own.  Each  of  these  is  itself  subject  to  succes- 
sive differentiations.  In  the  course  of  ages,  there  arises,  as 
among  ourselves,  a  highly  complex  political  organization  of 
monarch,  ministers,  lords  and  commons,  with  their  subor- 
dinate administrative  departments,  courts  of  justice,  reve- 
nue offices,  &c.,  supplemented  in  the  provinces  by  munici- 
pal governments,  county  governments,  parish  or  union  gov- 
ernments— all  of  them  more  or  less  elaborated.  By  its  side 
there  grows  up  a  highly  complex  religious  organization, 
with  its  various  grades  of  officials,  from  archbishops  down 
to  sextons,  its  colleges,  convocations,  ecclesiastical  courts, 
&c. ;  to  all  which  must  be  added  the  ever  multiplying  inde* 
pendent  sects,  each  with  its  general  and  local  authorities. 
And  at  the  same  time  there  is  developed  a  highly  complex 
aggregation  of  customs,  manners,  and  temporary  fashions, 
enforced  by  society  at  large,  and  serving  to  control  those 

*  For  detailed  proof  of  these  assertions  see  essay  on  Manners  ana 
Ftuthion. 


INDUSTRIAL   DEVELOPMENT.  15 

minor  transactions  between  man  and  man  wliich  are  not  reg- 
ulated by  civil  and  religious  law.  Moreover  it  is  to  be  ob- 
served that  this  ever  increasing  heterogeneity  in  the  gov- 
ernmental appliances  of  each  nation,  has  been  accompanied 
by  an  increasing  heterogeneity  in  the  governmental  appli- 
ances of  different  nations ;  all  of  which  are  more  or  less 
unlike  in  their  political  systems  and  legislation,  in  their 
creeds  and  religious  institutions,  in  their  customs  and  cere- 
monial usages. 

Simultaneously  there  has  been  going  on  a  second  dif- 
ferentiation of  a  more  familiar  kind ;  that,  namely,  by 
which  the  mass  of  the  community  has  been  segregated  into 
distinct  classes  and  orders  of  workers.  While  the  govern- 
ing part  has  undergone  the  complex  development  above 
detailed,  the  governed  part  has  undergone  an  equally  com- 
plex development,  which  has  resulted  in  that  minute  divis- 
ion of  labour  characterizing  advanced  nations.  It  is  need- 
less to  trace  out  this  progress  from  its  first  stages,  up 
through  the  caste  divisions  of  the  East  and  the  incorporat' 
ed  guilds  of  Europe,  to  the  elaborate  producing  and  dis- 
tributing organization  existing  among  ourselves.  Political 
economists  have  long  since  described  the  evolution  which, 
beginning  with  a  tribe  whose  members  severally  perform 
the  same  actions  each  for  himself,  ends  with  a  civilized  com- 
munity whose  members  severally  perform  different  actions 
for  each  other ;  and  they  have  further  pointed  out  the 
changes  through  which  the  soHtary  producer  of  any  one 
commodity  is  transformed  into  a  combination  of  producers 
who,  united  under  a  master,  take  separate  parts  in  the  man- 
ufacture of  such  commodity.  But  there  are  yet  other  and 
higher  phases  of  this  advance  from  the  homogeneous  to  the 
heterogeneous  in  the  industrial  organization  of  society. 

Long  after  considerable  progress  hasbeen  made  in  the  di- 
vision of  labour  among  different  classes  of  workers,  there 
IS  still  little  or  no  division  of  labour  among  the  widely  sep* 


16  PKOGKESS:    ITS    LAW    AND   CAIJSE. 

arated  parts  of  the  community ;  the  nation  continues  com- 
paratively homogeneous  in  the  respect  that  in  each  district 
the  same  occupations  are  pursued.  But  when  roads  and 
other  means  of  transit  become  numerous  and  good,  the  dif- 
ferent districts  begin  to  assume  different  functions,  and  to 
become  mutually  dependent.  The  calico  manufacture  lo- 
cates itself  in  this  county,  the  woollen-cloth  manufacture  in 
that ;  silks  are  produced  here,  lace  there  ;  stockings  in  one 
place,  shoes  in  another  ;  pottery,  hardware,  cutlery,  come 
to  have  their  special  towns ;  and  ultimately  every  locality 
becomes  more  or  less  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  the 
leading  occupation  carried  on  in  it.  l!^ay,  more,  this  sub- 
division of  functions  shows  itself  not  only  among  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  same  nation,  but  among  different  nations. 
That  exchange  of  commodities  which  free-trade  promises 
so  greatly  to  increase,  will  ultimately  have  the  effect  of 
specializing,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  the  industry  of 
each  people.  So  that  beginning  with  a  barbarous  tribe, 
almost  if  not  quite  homogeneous  in  the  functions  of  its 
members,  the  progress  has  been,  and  still  is,  towards  an 
economic  aggregation  of  the  whole  human  race  ;  growing 
ever  more  heterogeneous  in  respect  of  the  separate  func- 
tions assumed  by  separate  nations,  the  separate  functions 
assumed  by  the  local  sections  of  each  nation,  the  separate 
functions  assumed  by  the  many  kinds  of  makers  and  traders 
in  each  town,  and  the  separate  functions  assumed  by  the 
workers  united  in  producing  each  commodity. 

Not  only  is  the  law  thus  clearly  exemplified  in  the  evo 
lution  of  the  social  organism,  but  it  is  exemplified  with  equal 
clearness  in  the  evolution  of  all  products  of  human  thought 
and  action,  whether  concrete  or  abstract,  real  or  ideal.  Let 
us  take  Language  as  our  first  illustration. 

The  lowest  form  of  languasje  is  the  exclamation,  h\ 
which  an  entire  idea  is  vaguely  conveyed  through  a  single 
iound  :  as  amongr  the  lower  animals.    That  human  lanoruaf?e 


DEVICLOPMENT   OF   LANGUAGP:.  17 

ever  consisted  solely  of  exclamations,  and  so  was  strictly  ho- 
mogeneous in  respect  of  its  parts  of  speech,  we  have  no  evi- 
dence. But  that  language  can  be  traced  down  to  a  form 
in  which  nouns  and  verbs  are  its  only  elements,  is  an  estab- 
lished fact.  In  the  gradual  multiplication  of  parts  of  speech 
cut  of  these  primary  ones — in  the  differentiation  of  verbs 
into  active  and  passive,  of  nouns  into  abstract  and  concrete 
— in  the  rise  of  distinctions  of  mood,  tense,  person,  of  num- 
ber and  case — in  the  formation  of  auxiliary  verbs,  of  adjec- 
tives, adverbs,  pronouns,  prepositions,  articles — in  the  di- 
vergence of  those  orders,  genera,  species,  and  varieties  of 
parts  of  speech  by  which  civilized  races  express  minute 
modifications  of  meaning — we  see  a  change  from  the  homo- 
geneous to  the  heterogeneous.  And  it  may  be  remarked, 
in  passing,  that  it  is  more  especially  in  virtue  of  having 
carried  this  subdivision  of  function  to  a  greater  extent  and 
completeness,  that  the  English  language  is  superior  to  all 
others. 

Another  aspect  under  which  we  may  trace  the  devel- 
opment of  language  is  the  differentiation  of  words  of 
allied  meanings.  Philology  early  disclosed  the  truth  that 
in  all  languages  words  may  be  grouped  into  families  having 
a  common  ancestry.  An  aboriginal  name  applied  indiscrim- 
inately to  each  of  an  extensive  nnd  ill-defined  class  of  things 
or  actions,  presently  undergoes  modifications  by  which  the 
chief  divisions  of  the  class  are  expressed.  These  several 
names  springing  from  the  primitive  root,  themselves  become 
the  parents  of  other  names  still  further  modified.  And  by 
the  aid  of  those  systematic  modes  which  presently  arise, 
of  making  derivations  and  forming  compound  terms  ex- 
pressing still  smaller  distinctions,  there  is  finally  developed 
a  tribe  of  words  so  heterogeneous  in  sound  and  meaning, 
that  to  the  unmitiated  it  seems  incredible  that  they  should 
have  had  a  common  origin.  Meanwhile  from  other  roota 
there  are  beinor  evolved  other  such  tribes,  until  there  r^- 


18  PKOGKESS  :    ITS    LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

suits  a  language  of  some  sixty  thousand  oi  more  unlike 
words,  signifying  as  many  unlike  objects,  qualities,  acts. 

Yet  another  way  in  which  language  in  general  advances 
from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  is  in  the  mul 
tiplication  of  languages.  Whether  as  Max  Mailer  and  Bun- 
sen  think,  all  languages  have  grown  from  one  stock,  or 
whether,  as  some  philologists  say,  they  have  grown  from 
two  or  more  stocks,  it  is  clear  that  since  large  families  of 
languages,  as  the  Indo-European,  are  of  one  parentage, 
they  have  become  distinct  through  a  process  of  continuous 
divergence.  The  same  diffusion  over  the  Earth's  surface 
which  has  led  to  the  differentiation  of  the  race,  has  simulta- 
neously led  to  a  differentiation  of  their  speech :  a  truth 
which  we  see  further  illustrated  in  each  nation  by  the  pecu- 
liarities of  dialect  found  in  several  districts.  Thus  the  pro- 
gress of  Language  conforms  to  the  general  law,  alike  in  thti 
evolution  of  languages,  in  the  evolution  of  families  of  words, 
and  in  the  evolution  of  parts  of  speech. 

On  passing  from  spoken  to  written  language,  we  come 
upon  several  classes  of  facts,  all  having  similar  implications. 
Written  language  is  connate  with  Painting  and  Sculpture ; 
and  at  first  all  three  are  ajDpendages  of  Architecture,  and 
have  a  direct  connection  with  the  primary  form  of  all  Gov- 
ernment— the  theocratic.  Merely  noting  by  the  way  the 
fact  that  sundry  wild  races,  as  for  example  the  Australians 
and  the  tribes  of  South  Africa,  are  given  to  depicting  per- 
sonages and  events  upon  the  walls  of  caves,  which  are  prob- 
ably regarded  as  sacred  places,  let  us  pass  to  the  case  of 
the  Egyptians.  Among  them,  as  also  among  the  Assyrians, 
we  find  mural  paintings  used  to  decorate  the  temple  of  the 
god  and  the  palace  of  the  king  (which  were,  indeed,  origi- 
nally identical) ;  and  as  such  they  were  governmental  appli- 
ances in  the  same  sense  that  state-pageants  and  religious 
feasts  were.  Further,  they  were  governmental  apj^liancea 
In  virtue  of  representing  the  worship  of  the  god,  the  tri- 


PICTOKrAL    GEKMS    OF   LANGrAGE.  19 

ninphs  of  the  god-king,  the  submission  of  his  subjects,  and 
the  punishment  of  the  rebelUous.  And  yet  again  they  were 
governmental,  as  being  the  products  of  an  art  reverenced 
by  the  people  as  a  sacred  mystery.  From  the  habitual  use 
of  this  pictorial  representation  there  naturally  grew  up  the 
but  slightly-modified  practice  of  picture-writing — a  practice 
which  was  found  still  extant  among  the  Mexicans  at  the  time 
they  were  discovered.  By  abbreviations  analogous  to  those 
still  going  on  in  our  own  written  and  spoken  language,  the 
most  familiar  of  these  pictured  figures  were  successively  sim- 
plified ;  and  ultimately  there  grew  up  a  system  of  symbols, 
most  of  M  hich  had  but  a  distant  resemblance  to  the  things 
for  which  they  stood.  The  inference  that  the  hieroglyphics 
of  the  Egyptians  were  thus  produced,  is  confirmed  by  the 
fact  that  the  picture-writing  of  the  Mexicans  Avas  found  to 
have  given  birth  to  a  like  family  of  ideographic  forms  ;  and 
among  them,  as  among  the  Egyptians,  these  had  been  par- 
tially differentiated  into  the  kuriological  or  imitative,  and 
the  tropical  or  symbolic :  which  w^ere,  however,  used  to- 
gether in  the  same  record.  In  Egypt,  written  language 
underwent  a  further  differentiation  :  whence  resulted  the 
hieratic  and  the  epist olographic  or  enchorial:  both  of  which 
are  derived  from  the  original  hieroglyphic.  At  the  same 
time  we  find  that  for  the  ex^^ression  of  proper  names  which 
could  not  be  otherwise  conveyed,  phonetic  symbols  were 
employed  ;  and  though  it  is  alleged  that  the  Egyptians 
never  actually  achieved  complete  alphabetic  writing,  yet  it 
can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  these  phonetic  symbols  occa- 
fiioually  used  in  aid  of  their  ideograj^hic  ones,  were  the 
germs  out  of  which  alphabetic  writing  grew.  Once  having 
become  separate  from  hieroglyphics,  alphabetic  writing  it- 
self underwent  numerous  differentiations — multiplied  alpha- 
bets were  produced;  between  most  of  which,  however,  mere 
or  less  connection  can  still  be  traced.  And  m  each  civil- 
ized nation  there  has  now  grown  up,  for  the  representation 


20  PROGRESS  :    ITS    LAW    AND   CAUSE. 

of  one  set  of  sounds,  several  sets  of  written  signs  used  for 
distinct  purposes.  Finally,  through  a  vet  more  important 
differentiation  came  printing  ;  which,  uniform  in  kind  as  it 
was  at  first,  has  since  become  multiform. 

While  written  language  was  passing  through  its  earlier 
stages  of  development,  the  mural  decoration  which  formed 
its  root  was  being  diiferentiated  into  Painting  and  Sculp- 
ture. The  gods,  kings,  men,  and  animals  represented,  were 
originally  marked  by  indented  outlines  and  coloured.  In 
most  cases  these  outlines  were  of  such  depth,  and  the  ob- 
ject they  circumscribed  so  far  rounded  and  marked  out  in 
its  leading  parts,  as  to  form  a  species  of  work  intermediate 
between  intaglio  and  bas-relief.  *  In  other  cases  we  see  an 
advance  upon  this :  the  raised  spaces  between  the  figures 
being  chiselled  off,  and  the  figures  themselves  appropriately 
tinted,  a  painted  bas-relief  was  produced.  The  restored 
Assyrian  architecture  at  Sydenham  exhibits  this  style  of 
art  carried  to  greater  perfection — the  persons  and  things 
represented,  though  still  barbarously  coloured,  are  carved 
out  with  more  truth  and  in  greater  detail :  and  in  the 
winged  lions  and  bulls  used  for  the  angles  of  gateways,  we 
may  see  a  considerable  advance  towards  a  completely 
sculptured  figure ;  which,  nevertheless,  is  still  coloured, 
and  still  forms  part  of  the  building.  But  while  in  Assyria 
the  production  of  a  statue  proper  seems  to  have  been  lit- 
tle, if  at  all,  attempted,  we  may  trace  in  Egyptian  art  the 
gradual  separation  of  the  sculptured  figure  from  the  wall. 
A  walk  through  the  collection  in  the  British  Museum  will 
clearly  show  this  ;  while  it  w^ill  at  the  same  time  afford  an 
opportunity  of  observing  the  evident  traces  which  the  inde- 
pendent statues  bear  of  their  derivation  from  bas-relief: 
seeing  that  nearly  all  of  them  not  only  display  that  union 
of  the  limbs  with  the  body  which  is  the  characteristic  of 
bas-relief,  but  have  the  back  of  the  statue  united  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  block  which  stands  in  place  of  the 


OEIGIN    OF   CHRISTIAN    ART.  21 

original  wall.  Greece  repeated  the  leading  stages  of  this 
progress.  As  in  Egypt  and  Assyria,  these  twin  arts  were 
at  first  united  with  each  other  and  with  their  parent,  Archi- 
tecture, and  were  the  aids  of  Religion  and  Government. 
On  the  friezes  of  Greek  temples,  we  see  coloured  bas-reliefs 
representing  sacrifices,  battles,  processions,  games — all  in 
Bome  sort  rehgious.  On  the  pediments  we  see  painted 
sculptures  more  or  less  united  with  the  tympanum,  and 
having  for  subjects  the  triumphs  of  gods  or  heroes.  Even 
when  we  come  to  statues  that  are  definitely  separated  from 
the  buildings  to  which  they  pertain,  we  still  find  them 
coloured  ;  and  only  in  the  later  periods  of  Greek  civiliza- 
tion does  the  differentiation  of  sculpture  from  painting 
appear  to  have  become  complete. 

In  Christian  art  we  may  clearly  trace  a  parallel  re-gene- 
sis. All  early  paintings  and  sculptures  throughout  Europe 
were  religious  in  subject — represented  Christs,  crucifixions, 
virgins,  holy  families,  apostles,  saints.  They  formed  inte- 
gral parts  of  church  architecture,  and  were  among  the 
means  of  exciting  worship  ;  as  in  Roman  Catholic  countries 
they  still  are.  Moreover,  the  early  sculptures  of  Christ  on 
the  cross,  of  virgins,  of  saints,  were  coloured  :  and  it  needs 
but  to  call  to  mind  the  painted  madonnas  and  crucifixes 
still  abundant  in  continental  churches  and  highways,  to 
perceive  the  significant  fact  that  painting  and  sculpture 
continue  in  closest  connection  with  each  other  where  they 
continue  in  closest  connection  with  their  parent.  Even 
when  Christian  sculpture  was  pretty  clearly  differentiated 
from  painting,  it  was  still  religious  and  governmental  in  its 
subjects — was  used  for  tombs  in  churches  and  statues  of 
kings :  while,  at  the  same  time,  painting,  where  not  purely 
ecclesiastical,  was  applied  to  the  decoration  of  palaces,  and 
besides  representing  royal  personages,  was  almost  wholly 
devoted  to  sacred  legends.  Only  in  quite  recent  times 
have  painting  and   sculpture  become  entirely  secular  arts. 


22  PROGRESS  :    ITS    lATV    AXD   CAUSE. 

Only  within  these  few  centuries  has  painting  been  divided 
into  historical,  landscape,  marine,  architectural,  genre,  ani- 
mal, still-life,  &c.,  and  sculpture  grown  heterogeneouj  in 
respect  of  the  variety  of  real  and  ideal  subjects  with  which 
it.  occupies  itself. 

Strange  as  it  seems  then,  vre  find  it  no  less  true,  that 
all  forms  of  written  language,  of  painting,  and  of  scul]> 
ture,  have  a  common  root  in  the  politico-religious  decora- 
tions of  ancient  temples  and  palaces.  Little  resemblance 
as  they  now  have,  the  bust  that  stands  on  the  console,  the 
landscape  that  hangs  against  the  wall,  and  the  copy  of  the 
Times  lying  upon  the  table,  are  remotely  akin  ;  not  only 
in  nature,  but  by  extraction.  The  brazen  face  of  the 
knocker  which  the  postman  has  just  lifted,  is  related  not 
only  to  the  woodcuts  of  the  Illustrated  Londo7i  .Neios 
which  he  is  delivering,  but  to  the  characters  of  the  billet- 
doux  which  accompanies  it.  Between  the  painted  window, 
the  prayer-book  on  which  its  light  falls,  and  the  adjacent 
monument,  there  is  consanguinity.  The  effigies  on  our 
coins,  the  signs  over  shops,  the  figures  that  fill  every  ledger, 
the  coats  of  arms  outside  the  carriage  panel,  and  the  pla- 
cards inside  the  omnibus,  are,  in  common  with  dolls,  blue- 
books,  paper-hangings,  lineally  descended  from  the  rude 
sculpture-paintings  in  which  the  Egyptians  represented  the 
triumphs  and  w^orship  of  their  god-kings.  Perhaps  no 
example  can  be  given  which  more  vividly  illustrates  the 
multiplicity  and  heterogeneity  of  the  products  that  in 
course  of  time  may  arise  by  successive  differentiations  from 
a  common  stock. 

Before  passing  to  other  classes  of  facts,  it  should  be 
observed  that  the  evolution  of  the  homogeneous  into  the 
heterogeneous  is  displayed  not  only  in  the  separation  of 
Painting  and  Sculpture  from  Architecture  and  from  each 
other,  and  in  the  greater  variety  of  subjects  they  embody, 
bat  it  is  further  shown  in  the  structure  of  each  work.     A 


EVOLUTION    OF   PAINTING   AND    STATUARY.  23 

modern  picture  or  statue  is  of  far  more  heterogeneoua 
nature  than  an  ancient  one.  An  Egyptian  sculpture-fresco 
represents  all  its  figures  as  on  one  plane — that  is,  at  the 
same  distance  from  the  eye  ;  and  so  is  less  heterogeneous 
than  a  painting  that  represents  them  as  at  various  distances 
from  the  eye.  It  exhibits  all  objects  as  exposed  to  the 
same  degree  of  light ;  and  so  is  less  heterogeneous  than  a 
|)ainting  which  exhibits  different  objects  and  different  parts 
of  each  object  as  in  different  degrees  of  light.  It  uses 
scarcely  any  but  the  primary  colours,  and  these  in  their 
full  intensity ;  and  so  is  less  heterogeneous  than  a  painting 
which,  introducing  the  primary  colours  but  sparingly,  em- 
ploys an  endless  variety  of  intermediate  tints,  each  of  hete- 
rogeneous composition,  and  differing  from  the  rest  not  only 
in  quality  but  in  intensity.  Moreover,  we  see  in  these  ear- 
liest works  a  great  uniformity  of  conception.  The  same 
arrangement  of  figures  is  perpetually  reproduced — the 
same  actions,  attitudes,  faces,  dresses.  In  Egypt  the  modes 
of  representation  were  so  fixed  that  it  was  sacrilege  to 
introduce  a  novelty ;  and  indeed  it  could  have  been  only 
in  consequence  of  a  fixed  mode  of  representation  that  a 
system  of  hieroglyphics  became  possible.  The  Assyrian 
bas-reliefs  display  parallel  characters.  Deities,  kings,  at- 
tendants, winged  figures  and  animals,  are  severally  depicted 
in  like  positions,  holding  like  implements,  doing  like  things, 
and  with  like  expression  or  non-expression  of  face.  If  a 
palm-grove  is  introduced,  all  the  trees  are  of  the  same 
height,  have  the  same  number  of  leaves,  and  are  equidis- 
tant. "When  water  is  imitated,  each  wave  is  a  counterpart 
of  the  rest ;  and  the  fish,  almost  always  of  one  kind,  are 
evenly  distributed  over  the  surface.  The  beards  of  the 
kings,  the  gods,  and  the  winged  figures,  are  everywhere 
similar :  as  are  the  manes  of  the  lions,  and  equally  so  those 
of  the  horses.  Hair  is  represented  throughout  by  one  form 
of  curl.     The  king's  beard   is  quite  architecturally  built 


24  PKOGKESS  :    ITS    LAW   AND    CAUSE. 

Up  of  compoimd  tiers  of  uniform  curls,  alternating  with 
tuisted  tiers  j^laced  in  a  transverse  direction,  and  arranged 
with  perfect  regularity ;  and  the  terminal  tufts  of  the  bulls' 
tails  are  represented  in  exactly  the  same  manner.  With- 
out tracing  out  analogous  facts  in  early  Christian  art,  in 
which,  though  less  striking,  they  are  still  visible,  the  ad- 
vance in  heterogeneity  will  be  sufficiently  manifest  on 
remembering  that  in  the  pictures  of  our  own  day  the  com- 
position is  endlessly  varied ;  the  attitudes,  faces,  expres- 
sions, unlike ;  the  subordinate  objects  different  in  size,  form, 
position,  texture ;  and  more  or  less  of  contrast  even  in  the 
smallest  details.  Or,  if  we  compare  an  Egyptian  statue, 
seated  bolt  upright  on  a  block,  with  hands  on  knees,  fin- 
gers outspread  and  parallel,  eyes  looking  straight  forward, 
and  the  two  sides  perfectly  symmetrical  in  every  particu- 
lar, with  a  statue  of  the  advanced  Greel^  or  the  modern 
school,  which  is  asymmetrical  in  respect  of  the  position  of 
the  head,  the  body,  the  limbs,  the  arrangement  of  the  hair, 
dress,  appendages,  and  in  its  relations  to  neighbouring 
objects,  we  shall  see  the  change  from  the  homogeneous  to 
the  heterogeneous  clearly  manifested. 

In  the  co-ordinate  origin  and  gradual  differentiation  of 
Poetry,  Music  and  Dancing,  we  have  another  series  of  illus- 
trations. Rhythm  in  speech,  rhythm  in  sound,  and  rhythm 
in  motion,  were  in  the  beginning  parts  of  the  same  thing, 
and  have  only  in  process  of  time  become  separate  things. 
Among  various  existing  barbarous  tribes  we  find  them  still 
united.  The  dances  of  savages  are  accompanied  by  some 
kind  of  monotonous  chant,  the  clapping  of  hands,  the  strik- 
ing of  rude  instruments  :  there  are  measured  movements, 
measured  words,  and  measured  tones ;  and  the  whole  cere- 
mony, usually  having  reference  to  war  or  sacrifice,  is  of 
governmental  character.  In  the  early  records  of  the  his- 
toi-ic  races  we  similarly  find  these  three  forms  of  metrical 
action  united  hi  religious  festivals.     In  the  Hebrew  writings 


EVOLUTION    OF   JMUSIC   AND    POETKr.  25 

we  read  that  the  triumphal  ode  composed  by  Moses  on  the 
defeat  of  the  Egyptians,  was  sung  to  an  accompaniment  of 
dancing^  and  timbrels.  The  Israelites  danced  and  sunoj  "  at 
the  inauguration  of  the  golden  calf.  And  as  it  is  generally 
agreed  that  this  representation  of  the  Deity  was  borrowed 
from  the  mysteries  of  Apis,  it  is  i)robable  that  the  dancing 
was  copied  from  that  of  the  Egyptians  on  those  occasions." 
There  was  an  annual  dance  in  Shiloh  on  the  sacred  festival ; 
and  David  danced  before  the  ark.  Again,  in  Greece  the 
like  relation  is  everywhere  seen :  the  original  type  being 
there,  as  probably  in  other  cases,  a  simultaneous  chanting 
and  mimetic  representation  of  the  life  and  adventures  of 
the  god.  The  Spartan  dances  were  accompanied  by  hymns 
and  songs  ;  and  in  general  the  Greeks  had  "  no  festivals  or 
religious  assemblies  but  what  were  accompanied  with  songs 
and  dances  " — both  of  them  being  forms  of  worship  used 
before  altars.  Among  the  Romans,  too,  there  were  sacred 
dances :  the  Salian  and  Lupercalian  being  named  as  of 
that  kind.  And  even  in  Christian  countries,  as  at  Limoges, 
in  comparatively  recent  times,  the  people  have  danced  in 
the  choir  in  honour  of  a  saint.  The  incipient  separation 
of  these  once  united  arts  from  each  other  and  from  reli- 
gion, was  early  visible  in  Greece.  Probably  diverging  from 
dances  partly  religious,  partly  warlike,  as  the  Coiybantian, 
came  the  war  dances  proj^er,  of  which  there  were  various 
kinds ;  and  from  these  resulted  secular  dances.  Mean- 
while Music  and  Poetry,  though  still  united,  came  to  have 
an  existence  separate  from  dancing.  The  aboriginal  Greek 
poems,  religious  in  subject,  were  not  recited,  but  chanted ; 
and  though  at  first  the  chant  of  the  poet  Avas  accompanied 
by  the  dance  of  the  chorus,  it  ultimately  grew  into  inde- 
pendence. Later  still,  when  the  poem  had  been  differen- 
tiated into  epic  and  lyric — when  it  became  the  custom  to 
sing  the  lyric  and  recite  the  epic — poetry  proper  was  born. 
As  during  the  same  period  musical  instruments  were  being 
.2 


26  PEOGRESS  :    ITS   LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

multiplied,  we  may  presume  that  music  came  to  have  an 
existence  apart  from  words.  And  both  of  them  were  be- 
ginning to  assume  other  forms  besides  the  religious.  Facts 
having  like  implications  might  be  cited  from  the  histories 
of  later  times  and  peoples:  as  the  practices  of  our  own 
early  minstrels,  who  sang  to  the  harp  heroic  narratives  ver- 
sified by  themselves  to  music  of  their  own  composition : 
thus  uniting  the  now  separate  offices  of  poet,  composer,  vo- 
caUst,  and  instrumentalist.  But,  without  further  illustra- 
tion, the  common  origin  and  gradual  differentiation  of 
Dancing,  Poetry,  and  Music  will  be  sufficiently  manifest. 

The  advance  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogene- 
ous is  displayed  not  only  in  the  separation  of  these  arts  from 
each  other  and  from  religion,  but  also  in  the  multiplied  dif- 
ferentiations which  each  of  them  afterwards  undergoes. 
Not  to  dwell  upon  the  numberless  kinds  of  dancing  that 
have,  in  course  of  time,  come  into  use ;  and  not  to  occupy 
space  in  detailing  the  progress  of  poetry,  as  seen  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  various  forms  of  metre,  of  rhyme,  and 
of  general  organization ;  let  us  confine  our  attention  to 
music  as  a  type  of  the  group.  As  argued  by  Dr.  Burney, 
and  as  implied  by  the  customs  of  still  extant  barbarous 
races,  the  first  musical  instruments  were,  without  doubt, 
percussive — sticks,  calabashes,  tom-toms — and  were  used 
simply  to  mark  the  time  of  the  dance ;  and  in  this  constant 
repetition  of  the  same  sound,  we  see  music  in  its  most 
homogeneous  form. 

The  Egyptians  had  a  lyre  with  three  strings.  The 
early  lyre  of  the  Greeks  had  four,  constituting  their  tetra- 
chord.  In  course  of  some  centuries  lyres  of  seven  and 
eight  strings  were  employed.  And,  by  the  expiration  of 
athousand  years,  they  had  advanced  to  their  "  great  system  *' 
of  the  double  octave.  Through  all  which  changes  there  of 
course  arose  a  greater  heterogeneity  of  melody.  Simulta^- 
neously  there  came  into  use  the  different  modes — Dorian, 


EVOLUTION    OF   MUSIC   AND    POETRY.  27 

Ionian,  Phrygian,  ^olian,  and  Lydian — answering  to  our 
keys  ;  and  of  these  there  were  ultimately  fifteen.  As  yet, 
however,  there  was  but  little  heterogeneity  in  the  time  of 
their  music. 

Instrumental  music  during  this  period  being  merely  the 
accompaniment  of  vocal  music,  and  vocal  music  being  com- 
plete! y  subordinated  to  words,  the  singer  being  also  the  poet, 
cliantinghis  own  compositions  and  making  the  lengths  of  his 
notes  agree  with  the  feet  of  his  verses, — there  unavoidably 
arose  a  tiresome  uniformity  of  measure,  which,  as  Dr.  Bur- 
neysays,  "no  resources  of  melody  could  disguise."  Lacking 
the  complex  rhythm  obtained  by  our  equal  bars  and  unequal 
notes  the  only  rhythm  was  that  produced  by  the  quantity  of 
the  syllables  and  was  of  necessity  comparatively  monotonous. 
And  further,  it  may  be  observed  that  the  chant  thus  result- 
ing, being  like  recitative,  was  much  less  clearly  differen- 
tiated from  ordinary  speech  than  is  our  modern  song. 

Nevertheless,  in  virtue  of  the  extended  range  of  notes 
in  use,  the  variety  of  modes,  the  occasional  variations  of 
time  consequent  on  changes  of  metre,  and  the  multiplica- 
tion of  instruments,  music  had,  towards  the  close  of  Greek 
civilization,  attained  to  considerable  heterogeneity — not 
indeed  as  compared  with  our  music,  but  as  compared  with 
that  which  preceded  it.  As  yet,  however,  there  existed 
nothing  but  melody  :  harmony  was  unknown.  It  was  not 
until  Christian  church-music  had  reached  some  development, 
that  music  in  parts  was  evolved ;  and  then  it  came  into 
existence  through  a  very  unobtrusive  differentiation.  Diffi- 
cult as  it  may  be  to  conceive  a  priori  how  the  advance 
from  melody  to  harmony  could  take  place  without  a  sud- 
den leap,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  it  did  so.  The 
circumstance  which  prepared  the  way  for  it  was  the  em- 
ployment of  two  choirs  singing  alternately  the  same  air. 
Afterwards  it  became  the  practice — very  possibly  first 
suggested   by  a   mistake — for   the    second    choir   to  com- 


28  progress:  its  law  and  cause. 

mence  before   the   first    had    ceased;   thus    produciug 
fugue. 

With  the  simple  airs  then  in  use,  a  partially  harmO' 
nious  fugue  might  not  improbably  thus  result :  and  a  very 
partially  harmonious  fugue  satisfied  the  ears  of  that  age, 
as  we  know  from  still  preserved  examples.  The  idea  hav- 
ing once  been  given,  the  composing  of  airs  productive  of 
fugal  harmony  would  naturally  grow  up  ;  as  in  some  way 
it  did  grow  up  out  of  this  alternate  choir-singing.  And 
from  the  fugue  to  concerted  music  of  two,  three,  four,  and 
more  parts,  the  transition  was  easy.  Without  pointing 
out  in  detail  the  increasing  complexity  that  resulted  from 
introducing  notes  of  various  lengths,  from  the  multiplica- 
tion of  keys,  from  the  use  of  accidentals,  from  varieties  of 
time,  and  so  forth,  it  needs  but  to  contrast  music  as  it  is, 
with  music  as  it  was,  to  see  how  immense  is  the  increase 
of  heterogeneity.  We  see  this  if,  looking  at  music  in  its 
ensemble^  we  enumerate  its  many  different  genera  and 
species — if  we  consider  the  divisions  into  vocal,  instrumen- 
tal, and  mixed ;  and  their  subdivisions  into  music  for  difier- 
ent  voices  and  difierent  instruments — if  we  observe  the 
many  forms  of  sacred  music,  from  the  simple  hymn,  the 
chant,  the  canon,  motet,  anthem,  &c.,  up  to  the  oratorio ; 
and  the  still  more  numerous  forms  of  secular  music,  from 
the  ballad  up  to  the  serenata,  from  the  instrumental  solo  up 
to  the  symphony. 

Again,  the  same  truth  is  seen  on  comparing  any  one 
sample  of  aboriginal  music  with  a  sample  of  modern  music 
— even  an  ordinary  song  for  the  piano ;  which  we  find  to 
be  relatively  highly  heterogeneous,  not  only  in  respect  of 
the  varieties  in  the  pitch  and  in  the  length  of  the  notes, 
the  number  of  difi*erent  notes  sounding  at  the  same  instant 
in  company  with  the  voice,  and  the  variations  of  strength 
with  which  they  are  sounded  and  sung,  but  in  respect  of 
the  changes  of  key,  the  changes  of  time,  the  changes  of 


EVOLUTION   OF   LITEEATUEE.  25 

timbre  of  the  voice,  and  the  many  other  modifications  of 
expression.  While  between  the  old  monotonous  dance- 
chant  and  a  grand  opera  of  our  own  day,  with  its  endless 
orchestral  complexities  and  vocal  combinations,  the  con- 
trast in  heterogeneity  is  so  extreme  that  it  seems  scarcely 
credible  that  the  one  should  have  been  the  ancestor  of  the 
other. 

Were  they  needed,  many  further  illustrations  might  be 
cited.  Going  back  to  the  early  time  when  the  deeds  of 
the  god-king,  chanted  and  mimetically  represented  in 
dances  round  his  altar,  were  further  narrated  in  picture- 
writings  on  the  walls  of  temples  and  palaces,  and  so  con- 
stituted a  rude  literature,  we  might  trace  the  development 
of  Literature  through  phases  in  which,  as  in  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures,  it  presents  in  one  work  theology,  cosmogony, 
history,  biography,  civil  law,  ethics,  poetry  ;  through  other 
phases  in  which,  as  in  the  Iliad,  the  religious,  martial,  his- 
torical, the  epic,  dramatic,  and  lyric  elements  are  similarly 
commingled  ;  down  to  its  present  heterogeneous  develoj)- 
ment,  in  which  its  divisions  and  subdivisions  are  so  numer- 
ous and  varied  as  to  defy  complete  classification.  Or  we 
might  trace  out  the  evolution  of  Science ;  beginning  with 
the  era  in  which  it  was  not  yet  differentiated  from  Art, 
and  was,  in  union  with  Art,  the  handmaid  of  Religion  ;  pass- 
ing through  the  era  in  which  the  sciences  were  so  few  and 
rudimentary,  as  to  be  simultaneously  cultivated  by  the  same 
philosophers ;  and  ending  with  the  era  in  which  the  genera 
and  species  are  so  numerous  that  few  can  enumerate  them, 
and  no  one  can  adequately  grasp  even  one  genus.  Or  we 
might  do  the  like  with  Architecture,  with  the  Drama,  with 
Dress. 

But  doubtless  the  reader  is  already  weary  of  illustra- 
tions ;  and  our  promise  has  been  amply  fulfilled.  We 
believe  we  have  shown  beyond  question,  that  that  which 
the  German  physiologists  have  found  to  be  the  law  of 


30  PEOGKESS:    lis    i>AW    AXD    CAUSE. 

organic  clevelopment,  is  the  law  of  all  developmeDt.  The 
advance  from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  through  a  process 
of  successive  differentiations,  is  seen  alike  in  the  earliest 
changes  of  the  Universe  to  which  we  can  reason  onr  way 
back;  and  in  the  earliest  changes  which  we  can  induc- 
tively establish ;  it  is  seen  in  the  geologic  and  climatic 
evolution  of  the  Earth,  and  of  every  single  organism  on  its 
surface ;  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  Humanity,  whether 
contemplated  in  the  civilized  individual,  or  in  the  aggre- 
gation of  races ;  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  Society  in 
respect  alike  of  its  political,  its  religious,  and  its  economi- 
cal organization ;  and  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  all 
those  endless  concrete  and  abstract  products  of  human 
activity  which  constitute  the  environment  of  our  daily  life. 
From  the  remotest  past  which  Science  can  fathom,  up  to 
the  novelties  of  yesterc^ay,  that  in  which  Progress  essen- 
tially consists,  is  the  transformation  of  the  homogeneous 
into  the  heterogeneous. 

And  now,  from  this  uniformity  of  procedure,  may  we 
not  infer  some  fundamental  necessity  whence  it  results  ? 
May  we  not  rationally  seek  for  some  all-pervading  princi- 
ple which  determines  this  all-pervading  process  of  things  ? 
Does  not  the  universality  of  the  law  imply  a  universal 
cause  f 

That  we  can  fathom  such  cause,  noumenally  considered, 
is  not  to  be  supposed.  To  do  this  would  be  to  solve  that 
ultimate  mystery  which  must  ever  transcend  human  intelli- 
gence. But  it  still  may  be  possible  for  us  to  reduce  the 
law  of  all  Progress,  above  established,  from  the  condition 
of  an  empirical  generalization,  to  the  condition  of  a  ra- 
tional generalization.  Just  as  it  was  possible  to  interpret 
Kepler's  laws  as  necessary  consequences  of  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation ;  so  it  may  be  possible  to  interpret  this  law  of  Pro- 
gress, in  its  multiform  manifestations,  as  the  necessary  con- 


NECESSARY   NATURE   OF   THE   CArSE.  31 

sequence  of  some  similarly  universal  principle.  As  gravi- 
tation was  assignable  as  the  cause  of  each  of  the  groups  of 
phenomena  which  Kepler  formulated ;  so  may  some  equally 
simple  attribute  of  things  be  assignable  as  the  cause  of  each 
of  the  groups  of  phenomena  formulated  in  the  foregoing 
pages.  We  may  be  able  to  affiliate  all  these  varied  and 
complex  evolutions  of  the  homogeneous  into  the  heteroge- 
neous, upon  certain  simple  facts  of  immediate  experi- 
ence, which,  in  virtue  of  endless  repetition,  we  regard  as 
necessary. 

The  probability  of  a  common  cause,  and  the  possibility 
of  formulating  it,  being  granted,  it  will  be  well,  before 
going  further,  to  consider  what  must  be  the  general 
characteristics  of  such  cause,  and  in  what  direction  we 
ought  to  look  for  it.  We  can  with  certainty  predict  that 
it  has  a  high  degree  of  generality ;  seeing  that  it  is  com- 
mon to  such  infinitely  varied  phenomena:  just  in  propor- 
tion to  the  universality  of  its  application  must  be  the 
abstractness  of  its  character.  We  need  not  expect  to  see 
in  it  an  obvious  solution  of  this  or  that  form  of  Progress ; 
because  it  equally  refers  to  forms  of  Progress  bearing  little 
apparent  resemblance  to  them  :  its  association  with  multi- 
form orders  of  facts,  involves  its  dissociation  from  any  par- 
ticular order  of  facts.  Being  that  which  determines  Pro- 
gress of  every  kind — astronomic,  geologic,  organic,  ethnolo- 
gic, social,  economic,  artistic,  &c. — it  must  be  concerned 
with  some  fundamental  attribute  possessed  in  common  by 
these  ;  and  must  be  expressible  in  terms  of  this  fundamen- 
tal attribute.  The  only  obvious  respect  in  which  all  kinds 
of  Progress  are  alike,  is,  that  they  are  modes  of  change  y  and 
hence,  in  some  characteristic  of  changes  in  general,  the  de- 
sired solution  will  probably  be  found.  We  may  suspect 
d  priori  that  in  some  law  of  change  lies  the  explanation  of 
this  universal  transformation  of  the  homogeneous  into  tho 
hetero2:eneous. 


82  PROGRESS  :    ITS    LAW    AKD   CAUSE. 

Thus  much  premised,  we  pass  at  once  to  the  statement 
of  the  law,  which  is  this  -.-:— Every  active  force  2^'f'oduces 
more  than  one  change — every  cause  produces  more  than  one 
effect. 

Before  this  law  can  be  duly  comprehended,  a  few  exam- 
ples must  be  looked  at.  When  one  body  is  struck  against 
another,  that  which  we  usually  regard  as  the  effect,  is  a 
change  of  position  or  motion  in  one  or  both  bodies.  But 
a  moment's  thought  shows  us  that  this  is  a  careless  and 
very  Lncomplete  view  of  the  matter.  Besides  the  visible 
mechanical  result,  sound  is  produced ;  or,  to  sj)eak  accurate- 
ly, a  vibration  in  one  or  both  bodies,  and  in  the  surround- 
ing air :  and  under  some  circumstances  we  call  this  the  ef- 
fect. Moreover,  the  air  has  not  only  been  made  to  vibrate, 
but  has  had  sundry  currents  caused  in  it  by  the  transit  of 
the  bodies.  Further,  there  is  a  disarrangement  of  the  par- 
ticles of  the  two  bodies  in  the  neighbourhood  of  their  point 
of  collision ;  amounting  in  some  cases  to  a  visible  conden- 
sation. Yet  more,  this  condensation  is  accompanied  by  the 
disengagement  of  heat.  In  some  cases  a  spark — that  is, 
light — results,  from  the  incandescence  of  a  portion  struck 
off;  and  sometimes  this  incandescence  is  associated  "with 
chemical  combination. 

Thus,  by  the  original  mechanical  force  expended  in  the 
collision,  at  least  five,  and  often  more,  different  kinds  of 
changes  have  been  produced.  Take,  again,  the  lighting  of 
a  candle.  Primarily  this  is  a  chemical  change  consequent 
on  a  rise  of  temperature.  The  process  of  combination 
having  once  been  set  going  by  extraneous  heat,  there  is  a 
continued  formation  of  carbonic  acid,  water,  &c. — in  itself 
a  result  more  complex  than  the  extraneous  heat  that  first 
caused  it.  But  accompanying  this  process  of  combination 
iherf;  is  a  production  of  heat ;  there  is  a  production  of  light ; 
there  is  an  ascending  column  of  hot  gases  generated  ;  there 
are  currents  established  in  the  surrounding  air.     Moreover 


MULTIPLICATION   OF    EFFECTS.  33 

the  decomposition  of  one  force  into  many  forces  does  not 
end  here :  each  of  the  several  changes  produced  becomes 
the  parent  of  further  changes.  The  carbonic  acid  given 
off  will  by  and  by  combine  with  some  base;  or  under  the 
influence  of  sunshine  give  up  its  cai'bon  to  the  leaf  of  a 
plant.  The  water  will  modify  the  hygrometric  state  of  the 
air  around ;  or,  if  the  current  of  hot  gases  containing  it 
come  against  a  cold  body,  will  be  condensed  :  altering  the 
temperature,  and  perhaps  the  chemical  state,  of  the  surface 
it  covers.  The  heat  given  out  melts  the  subjacent  tallow, 
and  expands  whatever  it  warms.  The  light,  falUng  on  vari- 
ous substances,  calls  forth  from  them  reactions  by  which 
it  is  modified  ;  and  so  divers  colours  are  produced.  Similarly 
even  with  these  secondary  actions,  which  may  be  traced  out 
into  ever-multiplying  ramifications,  until  they  become  too 
minute  to  be  appreciated.  And  thus  it  is  with  all  changes 
whatever.  No  case  can  be  named  in  which  an  active  force 
does  not  evolve  forces  of  several  kinds,  and  each  of  these, 
other  groups  of  forces.  Universally  the  effect  is  more  com- 
plex than  the  cause. 

Doubtless  the  reader  already  foresees  the  course  of  our 
argument.  This  multiplication  of  results,  which  is  displayed 
in  every  event  of  to-day,  has  been  going  on  from  the  begin- 
ning ;  and  is  true  of  the  grandest  phenomena  of  the  uni- 
verse as  of  the  most  insignificant.  From  the  law  that  every 
active  force  produces  more  than  one  change,  it  is  an  inevit- 
able corollary  that  through  all  time  there  has  been  an  ever- 
growing complication  of  things.  Starting  with  the  ultimate 
fact  that  every  cause  produces  more  than  one  effect,  we  may 
readily  see  that  throughout  creation  there  must  have  gone 
on,  and  must  still  go  on,  a  never-ceasing  transformation  of 
the  homogeneous  into  the  heterogeneous.  But  let  us  trace 
Dut  this  truth  in  detail.^' 

*  A  correlative  truth  which  ought  also  to  be  taken  into  account  (that 
the  state  of  homogeneity  is  one  of  unstable  equilibrium),  but  which  it 
2* 


Bi  progress:  its  law  and  cause. 

Without  committing  ourselves  to  it  as  more  than  a  speo 
ulation,  though  a  highly  probable  one,  let  us  again  com- 
mence with  the  evolution  of  the  solar  system  out  of  a  ne- 
bulous medium.*  From  the  mutual  attraction  of  the  atoms 
of  a  diffused  mass  whose  form  is  unsymmetrical,  there  re- 
sults not  only  condensation  but  rotation  :  gravitation  simul- 
taneously generates  both  the  centripetal  and  the  centrifugal 
forces.  While  the  condensation  and  the  rate  of  rotation 
are  progressively  increasing,  the  approach  of  the  atoms  ne- 
cessarily generates  a  progressively  increasing  temperature. 
As  this  temperature  rises,  light  begins  to  be  evolved  ;  and 
ultimately  there  results  a  revolving  sphere  of  fluid  matter 
radiating  intense  heat  and  light — a  sun. 

There  are  good  reasons  for  beheving  that,  in  consequence 
of  the  high  tangential  velocity,  and  consequent  centrifugal 
force,  acquired  by  the  outer  parts  of  the  condensing  nebu- 
lous mass,  there  must  be  a  periodical  detachment  of  rota- 
ting rings  ;  and  that,  from  the  breaking  up  of  these  nebu- 
lous rings,  there  must  arise  masses  which  in  the  course  of 
their  condensation  repeat  the  actions  of  the  parent  mass, 
and  so  produce  planets  and  their  satellites — an  inference 
strongly   supported  by  the  still  extant  rings   of   Saturn. 

Should  it  hereafter  be  satisfactorily  shown  that  planets 
and  satellites  were  thus  generated,  a  striking  illustration 
will  be  afforded  of  the  highly  heterogeneous  effects  pro- 
duced by  the  primary  homogeneous  cause ;  but  it  will 
serve  our  present  purpose  to  point  to  the  fact  that  from  the 

would  greatly  encumber  the  argument  to  exemplify  in  connection  with 
the  above,  will  be  found  developed  in  the  essay  on  Transcendental  Fhysio- 
iogy. 

*  The  idea  that  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  has  been  disproved  because 
what  were  thought  to  be  existing  nebulae  have  been  resolved  into  clusters 
of  stars  is  almost  beneath  notice.  A  priori  it  was  highly  improbable,  if 
not  impossil)le,  that  nebulous  masses  should  still  remain  uncondensed, 
while  others  have  been  condensed  millions  of  years  ago. 


35 

mutual  attraction  of  the  particles  of  an  irregular  nebulous 
mass  there  result  condensation,  rotation,  heat,  and  light. 

It  follows  as  a  corollary  from  the  Nebular  Hypothesis, 
that  the  Earth  must  at  first  have  been  incandescent ;  and 
whether  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  be  true  or  not,  this  origi 
nal  incandescence  of  the  Earth  is  now  inductively  established 
—or,  if  not  established,  at  least  rendered  so  highly  pro- 
bable that  it  is  a  generally  admitted  geological  doctrine. 
Let  us  look  first  at  the  astronomical  attributes  of  this  once 
molten  globe.  From  its  rotation  there  result  the  oblate- 
ness  of  its  form,  the  alternations  of  day  and  night,  and  (un- 
der the  influence  of  the  moon)  the  tides,  aqueous  and  at- 
mospheric. From  the  inclination  of  its  axis,  there  result 
the  precession  of  the  equinoxes  and  the  many  differences  of 
the  seasons,  both  simultaneous  and  successive,  that  pervade 
its  surface.  Thus  the  multiplication  of  efiects  is  obvious. 
Several  of  the  dififerentiations  due  to  the  gradual  cooling 
of  the  Earth  have  been  already  noticed — as  the  formation 
of  a  crust,  the  solidification  of  sublimed  elements,  the  pre- 
cipitation of  water,  &c., — and  we  here  again  refer  to  them 
merely  to  point  out  that  they  are  simultaneous  efi^ects  of 
the  one  cause,  diminishing  heat. 

Let  us  now,  however,  observe  the  multiplied  changes 
afterwards  arising  from  the  continuance  of  this  one  cause. 
The  cooling  of  the  Earth  involves  its  contraction.  Hence  the 
solid  crust  first  formed  is  presently  too  large  for  the  shrink- 
ing nucleus ;  and  as  it  cannot  support  itself,  inevitably  follows 
the  nucleus.  But  a  spheroidal  envelope  cannot  sink  down 
into  contact  with  a  smaller  internal  spheroid,  without  disrup- 
tion ;  it  must  run  into  wrinkles  as  the  rind  of  an  apple  does 
when  the  bulk  of  its  interior  decreases  from  evaporation. 
As  the  cooling  progresses  and  the  envelope  thickens,  the 
ridges  consequent  on  these  contractions  must  become 
greater,  rising  ultimately  into  hills  and  mountains  ;  and  the 
later  systems  of  mountains  thus  produced  must  not  only  be 


36  PKOGEESS  :    ITS    LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

higher,  as  we  find  them  to  be,  but  they  must  be  longer,  aft 
we  also  find  tliem  to  be.  Thus,  leaving  out  of  view  other 
modifying  forces,  we  see  what  immense  heterogeneity  of 
surface  has  arisen  from  the  one  cause,  loss  of  heat — a  heto- 
rogeneity  which  the  telescope  shows  us  to  be  paralleled  on 
the  face  of  the  moon,  where  aqueous  and  atmospheric 
agencies  have  been  absent. 

But  we  have  yet  to  notice  another  kind  of  heterogeneity 
of  surface  similarly  and  simultaneously  caused.  While  the 
Earth's  crust  was  still  thin,  the  ridges  produced  by  its  con- 
traction must  not  only  have  been  small,  but  the  spaces  be- 
tween these  ridges  must  have  rested  with  great  evenness 
upon  the  subjacent  liquid  spheroid  ;  and  the  water  in  those 
arctic  and  antarctic  regions  in  which  it  first  condensed,  must 
have  been  evenly  distributed.  But  as  fast  as  the  crust  grew 
thicker  and  gained  corresponding  strength,  the  lines  of 
fracture  from  time  to  time  caused  in  it,  must  have  occurred 
at  greater  distances  apart ;  the  intermediate  surfaces  must 
have  followed  the  contracting  nucleus  with  less  uniformity  ; 
and  there  must  have  resulted  larger  areas  of  land  and  wa- 
ter. If  any  one,  after  wrapping  up  an  orange  in  wet  tissue 
paper,  and  observing  not  only  how  small  are  the  wrinkles, 
but  how  evenly  the  intervening  spaces  lie  upon  the  surface 
of  the  orange,  will  then  wrap  it  up  in  thick  cartridge-paper, 
and  note  both  the  greater  height  of  the  ridges  and  the 
much  larger  spaces  throughout  which  the  paper  does  not 
touch  the  orange,  he  will  realize  the  fact,  that  as  the  Earth's 
solid  envelope  grew  thicker,  the  areas  of  elevation  and  de- 
pression must  have  become  greater.  In  place  of  islands 
more  or  less  homogeneously  scattered  over  an  all-embra- 
cing sea,  there  must  have  gradually  arisen  heterogeneous 
arrangements  of  continent  and  ocean,  such  as  we  now  know. 

Once  more,  this  double  change  in  the  extent  and  in  the 
elevation  of  the  lands,  involved  yet  another  species  of  he- 
terogeneity, that  of  coast-line.      A  tolerably  even  surface 


CHANGES    PEODUCED   BY   AIR   AND   ^VATER.  37 

raised  out  of  the  ocean,  must  have  a  simple,  regular  sea- 
margin  ;  but  a  surface  varied  by  table- lands  and  intersected 
br  mountain-chains  must,  when  raised  out  of  the  ocean, 
have  an  outline  extremely  irregular  both  in  its  leading 
features  and  in  its  details.  Thus  endless  is  the  accumula- 
tion of  geological  and  geographical  results  slowly  brought 
about  by  this  one  cause — the  contraction  of  the  Earth. 

When  we  pass  from  the  agency  w^hich  geologists  term 
Igneous,  to  aqueous  and  atmospheric  agencies,  we  see  the 
like  ever-growing  complications  of  effects.  The  denuding 
actions  of  air  and  water  have,  from  the  beginning,  been 
modifying  every  exposed  surface ;  everywhere  causing 
many  different  changes.  Oxidation,  heat,  wind,  frost, 
rain,  glaciers,  rivers,  tides,  waves,  have  been  unceasingly 
producing  disintegration ;  varying  in  kind  and  amount  ac- 
cording to  local  circumstances.  Acting  upon  a  tract  of 
granite,  they  here  work  scarcely  an  appreciable  effect ; 
there  cause  exfoliations  of  the  surface,  and  a  resulting  heap 
of  debris  and  boulders ;  and  elsewhere,  after  decomposing 
the  feldspar  into  a  white  clay,  carry  away  this  and  the  ac- 
companying quartz  and  mica,  and  deposite  them  in  separate 
beds,  fluviatiie  and  marine.  When  the  exposed  land  con- 
sists of  several  unlike  formations,  sedimentary  and  igneous, 
the  denudation  produces  changes  proportionably  more  he- 
terogeneous. The  formations  being  disintegrable  in  different 
degrees,  there  follows  an  increased  irregularity  of  surface. 
The  areas  drained  by  different  rivers  being  differently  con- 
stituted, these  rivers  carry  down  to  the  sea  different  com- 
binations of  ingredients;  and  so  sundry  new  strata  of 
distinct  composition  are  formed. 

And  here  indeed  we  may  see  very  simply  illustrated, 
the  truth,  w^hich  we  shall  presently  have  to  trace  out  in 
more  involved  cases,  that  in  proportion  to  the  heterogeneity 
of  the  object  or  objects  on  which  any  force  expends  itself, 
is  the  heterogeneity  of  the  results.     A  continent  of  com 


88  PROGRESS  :    ITS   LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

plex  structure,  exposing  many  strata  irregularly  distributed, 
raised  to  various  levels,  tilted  up  at  all  angles,  must,  undei 
the  same  denuding  agencies,  give  origin  to  immensely  mul- 
tiplied results  ;  each  district  must  be  differently  modified ; 
each  river  must  carry  down  a  diflerent  kind  of  detritus ; 
each  deposit  must  be  differently  distributed  by  the  en- 
tangled currents,  tidal  and  other,  which  wash  the  con- 
torted shores*,  and  this  multiplication  of  results  must 
manifestly  be  greatest  where  the  com2}lexity  of  the  surface 
is  greatest. 

It  is  out  of  the  question  here  to  trace  in  detail  the  genesis 
of  those  endless  complications  described  by  Geology  and 
Physical  Geography :  else  we  might  show  how  the  general 
truth,  that  every  active  force  produces  more  than  one 
change,  is  exemplified  in  the  highly  involved  flow  of  the 
tides,  in  the  ocean  currents,  in  the  winds,  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  rain,  in  the  distribution  of  heat,  and  so  forth.  But 
not  to  dwell  upon  these,  let  us,  for  the  fuller  elucidation 
of  this  truth  in  relation  to  the  inorganic  world,  consider 
what  would  be  the  consequences  of  some  extensive  cos- 
mical  revolution — say  the  subsidence  of  Central  America. 

The  immediate  results  of  the  disturbance  would  them- 
selves be  sufficiently  complex.  Besides  the  numberless 
dislocations  of  strata,  the  ejections  of  igneous  matter,  the 
proj^agation  of  earthquake  vibrations  thousands  of  miles 
around,  the  loud  explosions,  and  the  escape  of  gases ;  th'ere 
would  be  the  rush  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans  to 
supply  the  vacant  space,  the  subsequent  recoil  of  enormous 
waves,  which  would  traverse  both  these  oceans  and  produce 
Tnyriads  of  changes  along  their  shores,  the  corresponding 
atmospheric  waves  complicated  by  the  currents  surrounding 
each  volcanic  vent,  and  the  electrical  discharges  with  which 
fjuch  disturbances  are  accompanied.  But  these  temporary 
effects  would  be  insignificant  compared  with  the  permanent 
or.es.      The  complex  currents  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific 


EFFECTS   OF    A    SUBSIDENCE   OF   THE   LAND.  39 

would  be  altered  in  direction  and  amount.  The  distribu- 
tion of  heat  achieved  by  these  ocean  currents  would  be 
diiFerent  from  what  it  is.  The  arrangement  of  the  isother- 
mal lines,  not  even  on  the  neighbouring  continents,  but 
even  throughout  Europe,  would  be  changed.  The  tides 
would  flow  differently  from  what  they  do  now.  There 
would  be  more  or  less  modification  of  the  winds  in  their 
periods,  strengths,  directions,  qualities.  Rain  would  fall 
scarcely  anywhere  at  the  same  times  and  in  the  same  quan- 
tities as  at  present.  In  short,  the  meteorological  conditions 
thousands  of  miles  off,  on  all  sides,  would  be  more  or  less 
revolutionized. 

Thus,  without  taking  into  account  the  infinitude  of 
modifications  which  these  changes  of  climate  would  pro- 
duce upon  the  flora  and  fauna,  both  of  land  and  sea,  the 
reader  will  see  the  immense  heterogeneity  of  the  results 
wrought  out  by  one  force,  when  that  force  expends  itself 
upon  a  previously  complicated  area ;  and  he  will  readily 
draw  the  corollary  that  from  the  beginning  the  complica- 
tion has  advanced  at  an  increasing  rate. 

Before  going  on  to  show  how  organic  progress  also 
depends  upon  the  universal  law  that  every  force  produces 
more  than  one  change,  we  have  to  notice  the  manifestation 
of  this  law  in  yet  another  species  of  inorganic  progress — 
namely,  chemical.  The  same  general  causes  that  have 
wrought  out  the  heterogeneity  of  the  Earth,  physically 
considered,  have  simultaneously  wrought  out  its  chemical 
heterogeneity.  Without  dwelling  upon  the  general  fact 
that  the  forces  which  have  been  increasing  the  variety  and 
complexity  of  geological  formations,  have,  at  the  same 
time,  been  bringing  into  contact  elements  not  previously 
exposed  to  each  other  under  conditions  favourable  to  union, 
and  so  have  been  adding  to  the  number  of  chemical  com- 
pounds, let  us  pass  to  the  more  important  complicationa 
that  have  resulted  from  the  cooline:  of  the  Earth, 


1:0  PEOGRESS:    ITS   LAW    AND    CAUSE. 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  at  an  extreme  heat 
the  elements  cannot  combine.  Even  under  such  heat  aa 
can  be  artificially  produced,  some  very  strong  affinities 
yield,  as  for  instance,  that  of  oxygen  for  hydrogen;  and 
the  great  majority  of  chemical  compounds  are  decomposed 
at  much  lower  temperatures.  But  without  insisting  upon 
the  highly  probable  inference,  that  when  the  Earth  was  in 
its  first  state  of  incandescence  there  were  no  chemical  com- 
l>iuations  at  all,  it  will  suffice  our  purpose  to  point  to  the 
unquestionable  fact  that  the  compounds  that  can  exist  at 
the  highest  temperatures,  and  which  must,  therefore,  have 
been  the  first  that  were  formed  as  the  Earth  cooled,  are 
those  of  the  simplest  constitutions.  The  protoxides — in- 
cluding under  that  head  the  alkalies,  earths,  &c. — are,  as  a 
class,  the  most  stable  comj^ounds  we  know :  most  of  them 
resisting  decomposition  by  any  heat  we  can  generate. 
These,  consisting  severally  of  one  atom  of  each  component 
element,  are  combinations  of  the  simplest  order — are  but 
one  degree  less  homogeneous  than  the  elements  themselves. 
More  heterogeneous  than  these,  less  stable,  and  therefore 
later  in  the  Earth's  history,  are  the  deutoxides,  tritoxides, 
peroxides,  &c. ;  in  which  two,  three,  four,  or  more  atoms 
of  oxygen  are  united  with  one  atom  of  metal  or  other  ele- 
ment. Higher  than  these  in  heterogeneity  are  the  hydrates ; 
in  which  an  oxide  of  hydrogen,  united  with  an  oxide  of 
some  other  element,  forms  a  substance  whose  atoms  sever- 
ally contain  at  least  four  ultimate  atoms  of  three  different 
kinds.  Yet  more  heterogeneous  and  less  stable  still  are 
the  salts ;  which  present  us  with  compound  atoms  each 
made  up  of  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  ten,  twelve,  or  more 
atoms,  of  three,  if  not  more,  kinds.  Then  there  are  the 
hydrated  salts,  of  a  yet  greater  heterogeneity,  which  un- 
dergo partial  decomposition  at  much  lower  temperatures. 
After  them  come  the  further-complicated  supersalts  and 
double   salts,  having  a  stability  again  decreased  :   and  so 


CHEMICAL    EFFECTS    OF   DECREASmG   HEAT.  41 

tliroiigbout.  Without  entering  into  qualifications  for 
wliich  we  lack  space,  we  believe  no  chemist  will  deny  it  to 
be  a  general  law  of  these  inorganic  combinations  that, 
other  things  equal^  the  stability  decreases  as  the  complexify 
increases. 

And  then  when  we  pass  to  the  compounds  of  organic 
chemistry,  we  find  this  general  law  still  further  exemplified : 
we  find  much  greater  complexity  and  much  less  stability. 
An  atom  of  albumen,  for  instance,  consists  of  482  ultimate 
atoms  of  five  difierent  kinds.  Fibrine,  still  more  intricate 
in  constitution,  contains  in  each  atom,  298  atoms  of  carbon, 
40  of  nitrogen,  2  of  sulphur,  228  of  hydrogen,  and  92  of 
oxygen — in  ail,  660  atoms ;  or,  more  strictly  speaking — 
equivalents.  And  these  two  substances  are  so  unstable  as 
to  decompose  at  quite  ordinary  temperatures ;  as  that  to 
which  the  outside  of  a  joint  of  roast  meat  is  exposed. 
Thus  it  is  manifest  that  the  present  chemical  heterogene- 
ity of  the  Earth's  surface  has  arisen  by  degrees,  as  the  de- 
crease of  heat  has  permitted  ;  and  that  it  has  shown  itself 
in  three  forms — first,  in  the  multiplication  of  chemical  com- 
poujids ;  second,  in  the  greater  number  of  difiTerent  ele- 
ments contained  in  the  more  modern  of  these  compounds : 
and  third,  in  the  higher  and  more  varied  multiples  in  which 
these  more  numerous  elements  combine. 

To  say  that  this  advance  in  chemical  heterogeneity  is 
due  to  the  one  cause,  diminution  of  the  Earth's  tempera- 
ture, would  be  to  say  too  much  ;  for  it  is  clear  that  aque- 
ous and  atmospheric  agencies  have  been  concerned ;  and, 
further,  that  the  affinities  of  the  elements  themselves  are 
implied.  The  cause  has  all  along  been  a  composite  one : 
the  cooling  of  the  Earth  having  been  simply  the  most  gen« 
eral  of  the  concurrent  causes,  or  assemblage  of  conditions. 
And  here,  indeed,  it  may  be  remarked  that  in  the  several 
classes  of  facts  already  dealt  with  (excepting,  perhaps,  the 
tirst),  and  still  more  in  those  with  which  we  shall  presently 


i2  PEOGKESS:    ITS    LAW   AUB   CAUSE. 

deal,  the  causes  are  more  or  less  compound  ;  as  indeed  are 
nearly  all  causes  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  Scarcely 
any  change  can  with  logical  accuracy  be  wholly  ascribed  to 
one  agency,  to  the  neglect  of  the  permanent  or  temporary 
conditions  under  which  only  this  agency  produces  the 
change.  But  as  it  does  not  materially  affect  our  argument, 
we  prefer,  for  simplicity's  sake,  to  use  throughout  the  popu- 
lai  mode  of  expression. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  further  objected,  that  to  assign  loss 
of  heat  as  the  cause  of  any  changes,  is  to  attribute  these 
changes  not  to  a  force,  but  to  the  absence  of  a  force.  And 
this  is  true.  Strictly  speaking,  the  changes  should  be  at- 
tributed to  those  forces  which  come  into  action  when  the 
antagonist  force  is  withdrawn.  But  though  there  is  an  in- 
accuracy in  saying  that  the  freezing  of  water  is  due  to  the 
loss  of  its  heat,  no  practical  error  arises  from  it ;  nor  will 
a  parallel  laxity  of  expression  vitiate  our  statements  respect- 
ing the  multipHcation  of  effects.  Indeed,  the  objection 
serves  but  to  draw  attention  to  the  fact,  that  not  only  does 
the  exertion  of  a  force  produce  more  than  one  change,  but 
the  withdrawal  of  a  force  produces  more  than  one  change. 
And  this  suggests  that  perhaps  the  most  correct  statement 
of  our  general  principle  would  be  its  most  abstract  state- 
ment— every  change  is  followed  by  more  than  one  othei 
change. 

Returning  to  the  thread  of  our  exposition,  w^e  have  next 
to  trace  out,  in  organic  progress,  this  same  all-pervading 
principle.  And  here,  where  the  evolution  of  the  homoge- 
neous into  the  heterogeneous  was  first  observed,  the  produc- 
tion of  many  changes  by  one  cause  is  least  easy  to  demon- 
strate. The  development  of  a  seed  into  a  plant,  or  an 
ovum  into  an  animal,  is  so  gradual,  while  the  forces  which 
determine  it  are  so  involved,  and  at  the  same  time  so  unob- 
trusive, that  it  is  difiicult  to  detect  the  multiplication  of  effects 
which  is  elsewhere  so  obvious.     Nevertheless,  guided  by 


MULTIPLIED   ORGANIC   EFFECTS.  43 

indirect  evidence,  we  may  pretty  safely  reach  the  conclu- 
sion that  here  too  the  law  holds. 

Observe,  first,  how  numerous  are  the  effects  which  any 
marked  change  works  upon  an  adult  organism — a  human 
being,  for  instance.  An  alarming  sound  or  sight,  besides 
the  impressions  on  the  organs  of  sense  and  the  nerves,  may 
produce  a  start,  a  scream,  a  distortion  of  the  face,  a  tremb- 
ling consequent  upon  a  general  muscular  relaxation,  a 
burst  of  perspiration,  an  excited  action  of  the  heart,  a 
rush  of  blood  to  the  brain,  followed  possibly  by  arrest  of 
the  heart's  action  and  by  syncope :  and  if  the  system  be 
feeble,  an  indisposition  with  its  long  train  of  complicated 
symptoms  may  set  in.  Similarly  in  cases  of  disease.  A 
minute  portion  of  the  small-pox  virus  introduced  into 
the  system,  will,  in  a  severe  case,  cause,  during  the  first 
stage,  rigors,  heat  of  skin,  accelerated  pulse,  furred 
tongue,  loss  of  appetite,  thirst,  epigastric  uneasiness, 
vomiting,  headache,  j)ains  in  the  back  and  limbs,  muscular 
weakness,  convulsions,  delirium,  &c. ;  in  the  second  stage, 
cutaneous  eruption,  itching,  tingling,  sore  throat,  swelled 
fauces,  salivation,  cough,  hoarseness,  dyspnoea,  &c. ;  and  in 
the  third  stage,  (edematous  inflammations,  pneumonia,  pleuri- 
sy, diarrhoea,  inflammation  of  the  brain,  ophthalmia,  erysipe- 
las, &c. :  each  of  which  enumerated  symptoms  is  itself  more 
or  less  complex.  Medicines,  special  foods,  better  air,  might 
in  hke  manner  be  instanced  as  producing  multiplied  results. 

Now  it  needs  only  to  consider  that  the  many  changes 
thus  wrought  by  one  force  upon  an  adult  organism,  will  be 
in  part  paralleled  in  an  embryo  organism,  to  understand 
how  here  also,  the  evolution  of  the  homogeneous  into  the 
heterogeneous  may  be  due  to  the  production  of  many 
effects  by  one  cause.  The  external  heat  and  other  agen- 
cies which  determine  the  first  complications  of  the  germ, 
may,  by  acting  upon  these,  superinduce  further  complica- 
tions ;  upon  these  still  higher  and  more  numerous  ones ; 


44  progress:  its  law  and  cause. 

and  so  on  continually :  oacli  organ  as  it  is  developed  ser- 
ving, by  its  actions  and  reactions  upon  the  rest,  to  initiate 
new  complexities.  The  first  pulsations  of  the  fetal  heart 
must  simultaneously  aid  the  unfolding  of  every  part.  The 
growth  of  each  tissue,  by  taking  from  the  blood  special 
proportions  of  elements,  must  modify  the  constitution  of 
the  blood ;  and  so  must  modify  the  nutrition  of  all  the 
other  tissues.  The  heart's  action,  implying  as  it  does  a  cer- 
tain waste,  necessitates  an  addition  to  the  blood  of  effete 
matters,  which  must  influence  the  rest  of  the  system,  and 
perhaps,  as  some  think,  cause  the  formation  of  excretory 
organs.  The  nervous  connections  estabhshed  among  the 
viscera  must  further  multiply  their  mutual  influences  :  and 
so  continually. 

Still  stronger  becomes  the  probability  of  this  view  when 
we  call  to  mind  the  fact,  that  the  same  germ  may  be 
evolved  into  different  forms  according  to  circumstances. 
Thus,  during  its  earlier  stages,  every  embryo  is  sexless — 
becomes  either  male  or  female  as  the  balance  of  forces  act- 
ing upon  it  determines.  Again,  it  is  a  well-established  fact 
that  the  larva  of  a  working-bee  will  develop  mto  a  queen- 
bee,  if,  before  it  is  too  late,  its  food  be  changed  to  that  on 
which  tlie  larv?g  of  queen-bees  are  fed.  Even  more  remark- 
able is  the  case  of  certain  entozoa.  The  ovum  of  a  tape- 
worm, getting  into  its  natural  habitat,  the  intestine,  unfolds 
into  the  well-knowTi  form  of  its  parent ;  but  if  carried,  as 
it  frequently  is,  into  other  parts  of  the  system,  it  becomes 
a  sac-like  creature,  called  by  naturalists  the  JEchinococcus 
— a  creature  so  extremely  different  from  the  tape- worm  in 
aspect  and  structure,  that  only  after  careful  investigations 
has  it  been  proved  to  have  the  same  origin.  All  which 
instances  imply  that  each  advance  in  embrj^onic  complica- 
tion results  from  the  action  of  incident  forces  upon  the 
complication  previously  existing. 

Indeed,  we  may  find  d,  2?non  reason  to  think  that  the 


MULTIPLIED   ORGANIC    P]FI'ECIS.  45 

evolution  proceeds  after  this  manner.  For  since  it  is  now 
known  that  no  germ,  animal  or  vegetable,  contains  the 
slightest  rudiment,  trace,  or  indication  of  the  future  organ- 
ism—now that  the  microscope  has  shown  us  that  the  first 
process  set  up  in  every  f(?rtih"zed  germ,  is  a  process  of  re- 
peated spontaneons  fissions  ending  in  the  production  of  a 
mass  of  cells,  not  one  of  which  exhibits  any  special  charac- 
ter :  there  seems  no  alternative  but  to  suppose  that  the 
partial  organization  at  any  moment  subsisting  in  a  growing 
embryo,  is  transformed  by  the  agencies  acting  upon  it  into 
the  succeeding  phase  of  organization,  and  this  into  the 
next,  until,  through  ever-increasing  complexities,  the  ulti- 
mate form  is  reached.  Thus,  though  the  subtilty  of  the 
forces  and  the  slowness  of  the  results^  prevent  us  from 
directly  showing  that  the  stages  of  increasing  heterogeneity 
through  which  every  embryo  passes,  severally  arise  from 
the  production  of  many  changes  by  one  force,  yet,  indi- 
rectly^ we  have  strong  evidence  that  they  do  so. 

We  have  marked  iiow  multitudinous  are  the  effects 
which  one  cause  may  generate  in  an  adult  organism ;  that 
a  like  multiplication  of  effects  must  happen  in  the  unfold- 
ing organism,  we  have  observed  in  sundry  illustrative 
cases ;  further,  it  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  ability 
which  like  germs  have  to  originate  unlike  forms,  imphes  that 
the  successive  transformations  result  from  the  new  chancres 
superinduced  on  previous  changes  ;  and  we  have  seen  that 
structureless  as  every  germ  originally  is,  the  development 
of  an  organism  out  of  it  is  otherwise  incomprehensible. 
Kot  indeed  that  we  can  thus  really  explain  the  production 
of  any  plant  or  animal.  We  are  still  in  the  dark  respect- 
ing those  mysterious  properties  in  virtue  of  which  tlie 
germ,  when  subject  to  fit  influences,  undergoes  the  special 
changes  that  begin  the  series  of  transformations.  All  we 
aim  to  show,  is,  that  given  a  germ  possessing  these  myste- 
rious  properties,  the   evolution   of  an  organism  from  it. 


i()  PROGEESS:    ITS    LAW    AND   CAUSE. 

probably  depends  upon  that  multiplication  of  effects  which 
we  have  seen  to  be  the  cause  of  progress  in  general,  so  far 
as  w^e  have  yet  traced  it. 

When,  leaving  the  development  of  single  plants  and 
animals,  we  pass  to  that  of  the  Earth's  flora  and  fauna,  the 
course  of  our  argument  again  becomes  clear  and  simple. 
Though,  as  was  admitted  in  the  first  part  of  this  article, 
the  fragmentary  facts  Palaeontology  has  accumulated,  do 
not  clearly  warrant  us  in  saying  that,  in  the  lapse  of  geo- 
logic time,  there  have  been  evolved  more  heterogeneous 
organisms,  and  more  heterogeneous  assemblages  of  organ- 
isms, yet  we  shall  now  see  that  there  ryiust  ever  have  been 
a  tendency  towards  these  results.  We  shall  find  that  the 
production  of  many  effects  by  one  cause,  which,  as  already 
shown,  has  been  all  along  increasing  the  physical  hetero- 
geneity of  the  Earth,  has  further  involved  an  increasing 
heterogeneity  in  its  flora  and  fauna,  individually  and  col- 
lectively.    An  illustration  will  make  this  clear. 

Suppose  that  by  a  series  of  upheavals,  occurring,  as 
they  are  now  known  to  do,  at  long  intervals,  the  East  In- 
dian Archipelago  Avere  to  be,  step  by  step,  raised  into  a 
continent,  and  a  chain  of  mountains  formed  along  the  axis 
of  elevation.  By  the  first  of  these  upheavals,  the  plants 
and  animals  inhabiting  Borneo,  Sumatra,  New  Guinea,  and 
the  rest,  would  be  subjected  to  slightly  modified  sets  of 
conditions.  The  climate  in  general  would  be  altered  in 
temperature,  in  humidity,  and  in  its  periodical  variations  ; 
while  the  local  differences  would  be  multiplied.  These 
modifications  would  affect,  perhaps  inappreciably,  the  entire 
flora  and  fiiuna  of  the  region.  The  change  of  level  would 
produce  additional  modifications :  varying  in  different  spe- 
cies, and  also  in  different  members  of  the  same  species, 
according  to  their  distance  from  the  axis  of  elevation. 
Plants,  growing  only  on  the  sea-shore  in  special  localities, 
might  become  extinct.     Others,  living  only  in  swamps  of  a 


CHANGES  OF  THE  EAETh's  FLORA  AND  FAUNA.    47 

certain  Immidity,  would,  if  they  survived  at  all,  probably 
undergo  visible  changes  of  appearance.  While  still  greater 
alterations  would  occur  in  the  plants  gradually  spreading 
over  the  lands  newly  raised  above  the  sea.  The  animals 
and  insects  living  on  these  modified  plants,  would  them- 
selves be  in  some  degree  modified  by  change  of  food,  as 
well  as  by  change  of  climate  ;  and  the  modification  would 
be  more  marked  where,  from  the  dwindling  or  disappear- 
ance of  one  kind  of  plant,  an  allied  kind  was  eaten.  In  the 
lapse  of  the  many  generations  arising  before  the  next  up- 
heaval, the  sensible  or  insensible  alterations  thus  produced 
in  each  species  would  become  organized — there  would  be 
a  more  or  less  complete  adaptation  to  the  new  conditions. 
The  next  upheaval  would  superinduce  further  organic 
changes,  implying  wider  divergences  from  the  primary 
forms  ;  and  so  repeated) y. 

But  now  let  it  be  observed  that  the  revolution  thus 
resulting  would  not  be  a  substitution  of  a  thousand  more 
or  less  modified  species  for  the  thousand  original  species ; 
but  in  place  of  the  thousand  original  species  there  would 
arise  several  thousand  species,  or  varieties,  or  changed 
forms.  Each  species  being  distributed  over  an  area  of 
some  extent,  and  tending  continually  to  colonize  the  new 
area  exposed,  its  dififerent  members  would  be  subject  to 
different  sets  of  changes.  Plants  and  animals  spreading 
toAvards  the  equator  would  not  be  affected  in  the  same  way 
with  others  spreading  from  it.  Those  sj^reading  towards 
the  new  shores  would  undergo  changes  unlike  the  changes 
undergone  by  those  spreading  into  the  mountains.  Thus, 
each  original  race  of  organisms,  would  become  the  root 
from  which  diverged  several  races  differing  more  or  less 
from  it  and  from  each  other ;  and  while  some  of  these 
might  subsequently  disappear,  probably  more  than  one 
would  survive  in  the  next  geologic  period  :  the  very  disper- 
sion itself  increasing  the  chances  of  survival.     Not  only 


48  progress:  its  law  antd  cause. 

would  there  be  certain  modifications  tlius  caused  by  change 
of  physical  conditions  and  food,  but  also  in  some  cases 
other  modifications  caused  by  change  of  habit.  The  fauna 
of  each  island,  peopling,  step  by  step,  the  newly-raised 
tracts,  would  eventually  come  in  contact  with  the  fliunas 
of  other  islands  ;  and  some  members  of  these  other  fiiunas 
would  be  unlike  any  creatures  before  seen.  Herbivores 
meeting  with  new  beasts  of  prey,  would,  in  some  cases,  be 
led  into  modes  of  defence  or  escape  diflfering  from  those 
previously  used ;  and  simultaneously  the  beasts  of  prey 
would  modify  their  modes  of  pursuit  and  attack.  We 
know  that  when  circumstances  demand  it,  such  changes  of 
habit  do  take  place  in  animals ;  and  we  know  that  if  the 
new  habits  become  the  dominant  ones,  they  must  eventually 
in  some  degree  alter  the  organization. 

Observe,  now,  however,  a  further  consequence.  There 
must  arise  not  simply  a  tendency  towards  the  diflTerentia- 
tion  of  each  race  of  organisms  into  several  races  ;  but  also 
a  tendency  to  the  occasional  production  of  a  somewhat 
higher  organism.  Taken  in  the  mass  these  divergent  varie- 
ties which  have  been  caused  by  fresh  physical  conditions 
and  habits  of  life,  will  exhibit  changes  quite  indefinite  in 
kind  and  degree  ;  and  changes  that  do  not  necessarily  con- 
stitute an  advance.  Probably  in  most  cases  the  modified 
type  will  be  neither  more  nor  less  heterogeneous  than  the 
original  one.  In  some  cases  the  habits  of  life  adopted 
being  simpler  than  before,  a  less  heterogeneous  structure 
will  result :  there  will  be  a  retrogradation.  But  it  must 
now  and  then  occur,  that  some  division  of  a  species,  falling 
into  circumstances  which  give  it  rather  more  complex  expe- 
riences, and  demand  actions  somewhat  more  involved,  will 
have  'certain  of  its  organs  further  differentiated  in  propor- 
tionately small  degrees, — will  become  slightly  more  hetero- 
geneous. 

Thus,  in  the  natural  coui'se  of  things,  there  will  from 


INCEEASING  DIVEEGENCE  OF  THE  ANIMAL  EACE8.        4:9 

time  to  time  arise  an  increased  heterogeneity  both  of  the 
Earth's  flora  and  famia,  and  of  individual  races  included  in 
them.  Omitting  detailed  explanations,  and  allowing  for 
the  qualifications  which  cannot  here  be  specified,  we  think 
it  is  clear  that  geological  mutations  have  all  along  tended 
to  complicate  the  forms  of  life,  whether  regarded  sepa- 
rately or  collectively.  The  same  causes  which  have  led  to 
the  evolution  of  the  Earth's  crust  from  the  simple  into  the 
complex,  have  simultaneously  led  to  a  parallel  evolution  of 
the  Life  upon  its  surface.  In  this  case,  as  in  previous  ones, 
we  see  that  the  transformation  of  the  homogeneous  into 
the  heterogeneous  is  consequent  upon  the  universal  princi- 
ple, that  every  active  force  produces  more  than  one  change. 

The  deduction  here  drawn  from  the  established  truths 
of  geology  and  the  general  laws  of  life,  gains  immensely 
in  weight  on  finding  it  to  be  in  harmony  with  an  induction 
drawn  from  direct  experience.  Just  that  divergence  of 
many  races  from  one  race,  which  we  inferred  must  have 
been  continually  occurring  during  geologic  time,  we  know 
to  have  occurred  during  the  pre-historic  and  historic  pe- 
riods, in  man  and  domestic  animals.  And  just  that  multi- 
plication of  effects  which  we  concluded  must  have  pro- 
duced the  first,  we  see  has  produced  the  last.  Single 
causes,  as  famine,  pressure  of  population,  war,  have  period- 
ically led  to  further  dispersions  of  mankind  and  of  depend- 
ent creatures :  each  such  dispersion  initiating  new  modifi 
cations,  new  varieties  of  type.  Whether  all  the  human 
races  be  or  be  not  derived  from  one  stock,  philology  makes 
it  clear  that  whole  groups  of  races  now  easily  distinguisha- 
ble from  each  other,  were  originally  one  race, — that  the 
diff'usion  of  one  race  into  different  climates  and  conditions 
of  existence,  has  produced  many  modified  forms  of  it. 

Similarly  with  domestic  animals.     Though  in  some  cases 
— as  that  of  dogs — community  of  origin  will  perhaps  be 
disputed,  yet  in  other  cases — as  that  of  the  sheep  or  the 
3 


50  PKOGRESS  :    ITS    LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

cattle  of  our  own  country — it  will  not  be  questioned  that 
local  differences  of  climate,  food,  and  treatment,  have  trans- 
formed  one  original  breed  into  numerous  breeds  now  be- 
come so  far  distinct  as  to  produce  unstable  hybrids.  More- 
over, through  the  complications  of  effects  flowuig  from 
single  causes,  we  here  find,  what  we  before  inferred,  not 
only  an  increase  of  general  heterogeneity,  but  also  of  spe- 
cial heterogeneity.  While  of  the  divergent  divisions  and 
subdivisions  of  the  human  race,  many  have  undergone 
changes  not  constituting  an  advance  ;  while  in  some  the 
type  may  have  degraded  ;  in  others  it  has  become  decidedly 
more  heterogeneous.  The  civilized  European  departs  more 
widely  from  the  vertebrate  archetype  than  does  the  savage. 
Thus,  both  the  law  and  the  cause  of  progress,  which,  from 
lack  of  evidence,  can  be  but  hypothetically  substantiated 
in  respect  of  the  earlier  forms  of  life  on  our  globe,  can  bo 
actually  substantiated  in  respect  of  the  latest  forms. 

If  the  advance  of  Man  towards  greater  heterogeneity 
is  traceable  to  the  production  of  many  effects  by  one  cause, 
still  more  clearly  may  the  advance  of  Society  towards 
greater  heterogeneity  be  so  explained.  Consider  the 
growth  of  an  industrial  organization.  When,  as  must  oc- 
casionally happen,  some  individual  of  a  tribe  displays  un- 
usual ai^titude  for  makmg  an  article  of  general  use —  a 
weapon,  for  instance — which  was  before  made  by  each  man 
for  himself,  there  arises  a  tendency  towards  the  differentia- 
tion of  that  individual  into  a  maker  of  such  weapon.  His 
companions — warriors  and  hunters  all  of  them, — severally 
feel  the  importance  of  having  the  best  weapons  that  can 
be  made  ;  and  are  therefore  certain  to  offer  strong  induce- 
ments to  this  skilled  individual  to  make  weapons  for  them, 
He,  on  the  other  hand,  having  not  only  an  unusual  faculty, 
but  an  unusual  liking,  for  making  such  weapons  (the  talent 
and  the  desire  for  any  occupation  being  commonly  associa- 
ted), is  predisposed  to  fulHl  these  commissions  on  tha  offer 


SOCIAL    DIFFERENTIATIONS.  51 

of  an  adequate  reward  :  especially  as  his  love  of  distinction 
is  also  gratified.  This  first  specialization  of  function,  once 
commenced,  tends  ever  to  become  more  decided.  On  the 
side  of  the  weapon-maker  continued  practice  gives  increased 
skill — increased  superiority  to  his  products  :  on  the  side  of 
his  clients,  cessation  of  practice  entails  decreased  skill. 
Tims  the  influences  that  determine  this  division  of  labour 
grow  stronger  in  both  ways  ;  and  the  incipient  heterogene- 
ity is,  on  the  average  of  cases,  likely  to  become  permanent 
for  that  generation,  if  no  longer. 

Observe  now,  however,  that  this  process  not  only  dif- 
ferentiates the  social  mass  mto  two  parts,  the  one  monopo- 
lizing, or  almost  monopolizing,  the  performance  of  a  certain 
function,  and  the  other  having  lost  the  habit,  and  in  some 
measure  the  power,  of  performing  that  function  ;  but  it 
tends  to  imitate  other  differentiations.  The  advance  we 
have  described  implies  the  introduction  of  barter, — the 
maker  of  weapons  has,  on  each  occasion,  to  be  paid  m  such 
other  articles  as  he  agrees  to  take  in  exchange.  But  he 
will  not  habitually  take  in  exchange  one  kind  of  article, 
but  many  kinds.  He  does  not  want  mats  only,  or  skins,  or 
fishing  gear,  but  he  wants  all  these  ;  and  on  each  occasion 
will  bargain  for  the  particular  things  he  most  needs.  What 
follows  ?  If  among  the  members  of  the  tribe  there  exist 
any  slight  differences  of  skill  in  the  manufacture  of  these 
various  things,  as  there  are  almost  sure  to  do,  the  weapon- 
maker  will  take  from  each  one  the  thing  which  that  one  ex- 
cels in  making :  he  will  exchange  for  mats  with  him  whose 
mats  are  superior,  and  will  bargain  for  the  fishing  gear  of 
whoever  has  the  best.  But  he  who  has  bartered  away  his 
mats  or  his  fishing  gear,  must  make  other  mats  or  fishing 
gear  for  himself;  and  in  so  doing  must,  in  some  degree, 
further  develop  his  aptitude.  Thus  it  results  that  the 
small  specialities  of  faculty  possessed  by  various  members 
of  the   tribe,  will  tend  to  grow  more  decided.      If  such 


52  progress:  us  law  and  cause. 

transactions  are  from  time  repeated,  these  specializationg 
may  become  appreciable.  And  whether  or  not  there  en- 
sue distinct  difierentiations  of  other  individuals  into  makers 
of  particular  articles,  it  is  clear  that  incipient  differentiations 
take  place  throughout  the  tribe :  the  one  original  cs-use 
produces  not  only  the  first  dual  effect,  but  a  number  of 
secondary  dual  effects,  like  in  kind,  but  minor  in  degree. 
This  process,  of  which  traces  may  be  seen  among  groups 
of  schoolboys,  cannot  well  produce  any  lasting  effects  in 
an  unsettled  tribe  ;  but  where  there  grows  up  a  fixed  and 
multiplying  community,  these  differentiations  become  per- 
manent, and  increase  with  each  generation.  A  larger  popu- 
lation, involving  a  greater  demand  for  every  commodity, 
intensifies  the  functional  activity  of  each  specialized  person 
or  class ;  and  this  renders  the  specialization  more  definite 
where  it  already  exists,  and  establishes  it  where  it  is  nascent. 
By  increasing  the  pressure  on  the  means  of  subsistence, 
a  larger  population  again  augments  these  results ;  seeing 
that  each  person  is  forced  more  and  more  to  confine  him- 
self to  that  which  he  can  do  best,  and  by  which  he  can  gain 
most.  This  industrial  progress,  by  aiding  future  produc- 
tion, opens  the  way  for  a  further  growth  of  population, 
which  reacts  as  before :  in  all  which  the  multiplication  of 
effects  is  manifest.  Presently,  under  these  same  stimuli, 
new  occupations  arise.  Competing  workers,  ever  aiming 
to  produce  improved  articles,  occasionally  discover  better 
processes  or  raw  materials.  In  weapons  and  cutting  tools, 
the  substitution  of  bronze  for  stone  entails  upon  him  who 
first  makes  it  a  great  increase  of  demand — so  great  an  in- 
crease that  he  presently  finds  all  his  time  occupied  in  making 
the  bronze  for  the  articles  he  sells,  and  is  obliged  to  depute 
the  fashioning  of  these  to  others :  and,  eventually,  the 
making  of  bronze,  thus  gradually  differentiated  from  a  pre- 
existing occupation,  becomes  an  occupation  by  itself. 

But  now  mark  the  ramified  chanojes  which  follow  this 


MULTIPLICATION    OF   INDUSTELiL    EFFECTS.  53 

change.  Bronze  soon  replaces  stone,  not  only  in  the  arti' 
cles  it  was  first  used  for,  but  in  many  others — in  arras,  tools, 
and  utensils  of  various  kinds ;  and  so  affects  the  manufac- 
ture of  these  things.  Further,  it  affects  the  processes 
which  these  utensils  subserve,  and  the  resulting  products — 
modifies  buildings,  carvings,  dress,  personal  decorations 
STet  again,  it  sets  going  sundry  manufactures  which  were 
before  impossible,  from  lack  of  a  material  fit  for  the  requi- 
site tools.  And  all  these  changes  react  on  the  people — in- 
crease their  manipulative  skill,  their  intelligence,  their  com- 
fort,— refine  their  habits  and  tastes.  Thus  the  evolution  of 
a  homogeneous  society  into  a  heterogeneous  one,  is  clearly 
consequent  on  the  general  principle,  that  many  effects  are 
produced  by  one  cause. 

Our  limits  Avill  not  allow  us  to  follow  out  this  process  in 
its  higher  complications :  else  might  we  show  how  the  lo- 
calization of  special  industries  in  special  parts  of  a  king- 
dom, as  well  as  the  minute  subdivision  of  labour  in  the 
making  of  each  commodity,  are  similarly  determined.  Or, 
turning  to  a  somewhat  different  order  of  illustrations,  we 
might  dwell  on  the  multitudinous  changes — material,  intel- 
lectual, moral, — caused  by  printing  ;  or  the  further  exten 
sive  series  of  changes  wrought  by  gunpowder.  But  leaving 
the  intermediate  phases  of  social  development,  let  us  take 
a  few  illustrations  from  its  most  recent  and  its  passing  pha- 
ses. To  trace  the  effects  of  steam-power,  in  its  manifold 
applications  to  mining,  navigation,  and  manufactures  of  all 
kinds,  would  carry  us  into  unmiuageable  detail.  Let  us 
confine  ourselves  to  the  latest  embodiment  of  steam-power 
- — the  locomotive  engine. 

This,  as  the  proximate  cause  of  our  railway  system,  has 
changed  the  face  of  the  country,  the  course  of  trade,  and 
the  habits  of  the  people.  Consider,  first,  the  complicated 
setvS  o'^  changes  that  precede  the  making  of  every  railway— 
the  provisional  arrangements,  the  meetings,  the  registra- 


54:  PEOGEESS:    ITS    LAW   AND    CAUSE. 

tion,  the  trial  section,  the  parliamentary  survey,  the  litho 
graphed  plans,  the  books  of  reference,  the  local  deposits  and 
notices,  the  application  to  Parliament,  the  passing  Standing- 
Orders  Committee,  the  first,  second,  and  third  readings : 
each  of  which  brief  heads  indicates  a  multiplicity  of  transac- 
tions, and  the  development  of  sundry  occupations — as  those 
of  engineers,  surveyors,  lithographers,  parliamentary  agents, 
share-brokers  ;  and  the  creation  of  sundry  others — as  those 
of  traffic-takers,  reference-takers.  Consider,  next,  the  yet 
more  marked  changes  implied  in  railway  construction — the 
cuttings,  embankings,  tunnellings,  diversions  of  roads  ;  the 
building  of  bridges  and  stations ;  the  laying  down  of  bal- 
last, sleepers,  and  rails ;  the  making  of  engines,  tenders, 
carriages  and  waggons :  which  processes,  acting  upon  nu- 
merous trades,  increase  the  importation  of  timber,  the 
quarrying  of  stone,  the  manufacture  of  iron,  the  mining  of 
coal,  the  burning  of  bricks :  institute  a  variety  of  special 
manufactures  weekly  advertised  in  the  Railway  Times ; 
and,  finally,  open  the  way  to  sundry  new  occupations,  as 
those  of  drivers,  stokers,  cleaners,  plate-layers,  &c.,  &c. 
And  then  consider  the  changes,  more  numerous  and  in- 
volved still,  which  railways  in  action  produce  on  the  com- 
munity at  large.  The  organization  of  every  business  is 
more  or  less  modified  :  ease  of  communication  makes  it  bet- 
ter to  do  directly  what  was  before  done  by  proxy ;  agencies 
are  established  where  previously  they  would  not  have  paid  ; 
goods  are  obtained  from  remote  wholesale  houses  instead 
of  near  retail  ones ;  and  commodities  are  used  which  dis- 
tance once  rendered  inaccessible.  Again,  the  rapidity  and 
small  cost  of  carriage  tend  to  specialize  more  than  ever  the 
industries  of  different  districts — to  confine  each  manufac- 
ture to  the  parts  in  which,  from  local  advantages,  it  can  be 
best  carried  on.  Further,  the  diminished  cost  of  carriage, 
facilitating  distribution,  equalizes  prices,  and  also,  on  the 
average,  lowers  prices  :  thus  bringing  divers  articles  within 


EFFECTS    OF   THE  LOCOMOTIVE    ENGINE.  55 

the  means  of  those  before  unable  to  buy  them,  and  so  in- 
creasing their  comforts  and  improving  their  habits.  At  the 
same  time  the  practice  of  travelling  is  immensely  extended. 
Classes  who  never  before  thought  of  it,  take  annual  trips 
to  the  sea  ;  visit  their  distant  relations  ;  make  tours  ;  and 
so  we  are  benefited  in  body,  feelings,  and  intellect.  More- 
over, the  more  prompt  transmission  of  letters  and  of  news 
produces  further  changes — makes  the  pulse  of  the  nation 
faster.  Yet  more,  there  arises  a  wide  dissemination  of  cheap 
literature  through  railway  book-stalls,  and  of  advertise- 
ments in  railway  carriages :  both  of  them  aiding  ulterior 
progress. 

And  all  the  innumerable  changes  here  briefly  indicated 
are  consequent  on  the  invention  of  the  locomotive  engine 
The  social  organism  has  been  rendered  more  heterogeneous 
in  virtue  of  the  many  new  occupations  introduced,  and  the 
many  old  ones  further  specialized ;  prices  in  every  place 
have  been  altered  ;  each  trader  has,  more  or  less,  modified 
his  w^ay  of  doing  business  ;  and  almost  every  person  has 
been  afiected  in  his  actions,  thoughts,  emotions. 

Illustrations  to  the  same  effect  might  be  indefinitely  ac- 
cumulated. That  every  influence  brought  to  bear  upon  so- 
ciety works  multiplied  effects ;  and  that  increase  of  hetero- 
geneity is  due  to  this  multiplication  of  effects  ;  may  be  seen 
in  the  history  of  every  trade,  every  custom,  every  belief 
But  it  is  needless  to  give  additional  evidence  of  this.  The 
only  further  fact  demanding  notice,  is,  that  we  here  see  still 
more  clearly  than  ever,  the  truth  before  pointed  out,  that 
in  proportion  as  the  area  on  which  any  force  expends  itself 
becomes  heterogeneous,  the  results  are  in  a  yet  higher  de- 
gree multiplied  in  number  and  kind.  While  among  the 
primitive  tribes  to  whom  it  was  first  known,  caoutchouc 
caused  but  a  few  changes,  among  ourselves  the  changes 
have  "been  so  many  and  varied  that  the  history  of  them  oo 


56  PEOGKESS  :    ITS    LAW   AND    CAUSE. 

cupies  a  volume.*  Upon  the  small,  homogeneous  commu 
nity  inhabiting  one  of  the  Hebrides,  the  electric  telegraph 
would  produce,  were  it  used,  scarcely  any  results ;  but  in 
England  the  results  it  produces  are  multitudinous.  The 
comparatively  simple  organization  under  which  our  ances- 
tors lived  five  centuries  ago,  could  have  undergone  but  few 
modifications  from  an  event  like  the  recent  one  at  Canton ; 
but  now  the  legislative  decision  respecting  it  sets  up  many 
hundreds  of  complex  modifications,  each  of  which  will  be 
the  parent  of  numerous  future  ones. 

Space  permitting,  we  could  willingly  have  pursued  the 
argument  in  relation  to  all  the  subtler  results  of  civilization. 
As  before,  we  showed  that  the  law  of  Progress  to  which 
the  organic  and  inorganic  worlds  conform,  is  also  conformed 
to  by  Language,  Sculpture,  Music,  &c. ;  so  might  we  here 
show  that  the  cause  which  we  have  hitherto  found  to  de- 
termine Progress  holds  in  these  cases  also.  TVe  might 
demonstrate  in  detail  how,  in  Science,  an  advance  of  one 
division  presently  advances  other  divisions — how  Astron- 
omy has  been  immensely  forwarded  by  discoveries  in  Op- 
tics, while  other  optical  discoveries  have  initiated  Micro- 
scopic Anatomy,  and  greatly  aided  the  growth  of  Physiol- 
ogy— how  Chemistry  has  indirectly  increased  our  knowl- 
edge of  Electricity,  Magnetism,  Biology,  Geology — how 
Electricity  has  reacted  on  Chemistry  and  Magnetism,  de- 
veloped our  views  of  Light  and  Heat,  and  disclosed  sundry 
laws  of  nervous  action. 

In  Literature  the  same  truth  might  be  exhibited  in  the 
manifold  effects  of  the  primitive  mystery-play,  not  only  as 
originating  the  modern  drama,  but  as  afiecting  through  it 
other  kinds  of  poetry  and  fiction  ;  or  in  the  still  multiplv- 
ing  forms  of  periodical  literature  that  have  descended  from 
the  first  newspaper,  and  which  have  severally  acted  and 

*  "  Personal  Narrative  of  the  Origin  of  the  Caoutchouc,  or  India-Rub 
ber  Manufacture  in  England."    By  Thomas  Hancock. 


VAST   AFPLICAEILITY    OF   THE    PRINCIPLE.  57 

reacted  on  other  forms  of  literature  and  on  each  other. 
The  influence  which  a  new  school  of  Painting — as  that  of 
the  pre-Rafiaelites — exercises  upon  other  schools;  the  hints 
which  all  kinds  of  pictorial  art  are  deriving  from  Photo- 
graphy ;  the  complex  results  of  new  critical  doctrines,  as 
those  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  might  severally  be  dwelt  upon  as 
displaying  the  like  multiplication  of  effects.  But  it  would 
needlessly  tax  the  reader's  patience  to  pursue,  in  their 
many  ramifications,  these  various  changes :  here  become 
so  involved  and  subtle  as  to  be  followed  with  some  diffi- 
culty. 

Without  further  evidence,  we  venture  to  think  our  case 
is  made  out.  The  imperfections  of  statement  which  brevity 
has  necessitated,  do  not,  we  believe,  militate  against  the 
propositions  laid  down.  The  qualifications  here  and  there 
demanded  would  not,  if  made,  affect  the  inferences. 
Though  in  one  instance,  where  suflicient  evidence  is  not 
attainable,  we  have  been  unable  to  show  that  the  law  of 
Progress  applies;  yet  there  is  high  probability  that  the  same 
generalization  holds  which  holds  throughout  the  rest  of 
creation.  Though,  in  tracing  the  genesis  of  Progress,  we 
have  frequently  spoken  of  complex  causes  as  if  they  were 
simple  ones ;  it  still  remains  true  that  such  causes  are  far 
less  complex  than  their  results.  Detailed  criticisms  can- 
not affect  our  main  position.  Endless  facts  go  to  show 
that  every  kind  of  progress  is  from  the  homogeneous  to 
the  heterogeneous ;  and  that  it  is  so  because  each  change 
is  followed  by  many  changes.  And  it  is  significant  that 
where  the  facts  are  most  accessible  and  abundant,  there 
are  these  truths  most  manifest. 

However,  to  avoid  committing  ourselves  to  more  than 
18  yet  proved,  we  must  be  content  with  saying  that  such 
are  the  law  and  the  cause  of  all  progress  that  is  known  to 
as.  Should  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  ever  be  established, 
then  it  will  become  manifest  that  the  Universe  at  large, 
3* 


58  PROGRESS  :    ITS   LAW    AND   CAUSE. 

like  every  organism,  was  once  homogeneous ;  that  as  a 
whole,  and  in  every  detail,  it  has  unceasingly  advanced 
towards  greater  heterogeneity  ;  and  that  its  heterogeneity 
is  still  increasing.  It  will  be  seen  that  as  in  each  event  of 
to-day,  so  from  the  beginning,  the  decomposition  of  every 
expended  force  into  several  forces  has  been  perj^etually 
producing  a  higher  complication ;  that  the  increase  oi 
heterogeneity  so  brought  about  is  still  going  on,  and  must 
continue  to  go  on ;  and  that  thus  Progress  is  not  an  acci- 
dent, not  a  thing  w^ithin  human  control,  but  a  beneficent 
necessity. 

A  few  words  must  be  added  on  the  ontological  bear- 
ings of  our  argument.  Probably  not  a  few  will  conclude 
that  here  is  an  attem.pted  solution  of  the  great  questions 
with  which  Philosophy  in  all  ages  has  perplexed  itself 
Let  none  thus  deceive  themselves.  Only  such  as  know  not 
the  scope  and  the  limits  of  Science  can  fall  into  so  grave 
an  error.  The  foregoing  generalizations  apply,  not  to  the 
genesis  of  things  in  themselves,  but  to  their  genesis  as 
manifested  to  the  human  consciousness.  After  all  that  has 
been  said,  the  ultimate  mystery  remains  just  as  it  was. 
The  explanation  of  that  which  is  explicable,  does  but  bring 
out  into  greater  clearness  the  inexplicableness  of  that 
which  remains  behind.  However  we  may  succeed  in  re- 
ducing the  equation  to  its  lowest  terms,  we  are  not  thereby 
enabled  to  determine  the  unknown  quantity  :  on  the  con- 
trary, it  only  becomes  more  manifest  that  the  unknown 
quantity  can  never  be  found. 

Little  as  it  seems  to  do  so,  fearless  inquiry  tends  con- 
tinually to  give  a  firmer  basis  to  all  true  Religion.  The 
timid  sectarian,  alarmed  at  the  progress  of  knowledge, 
obliged  to  abandon  one  by  one  the  superstitions  of  his 
ancestors,  and  daily  finding  his  cherished  behefs  more  and 
more  shaken,  secretly  fears  that  all  things  may  some  day 


NECESSARY    LIMITS    OF   INVESTIGATION.  59 

be  explained  ;  and  has  a  corresponding  dread  of  Science : 
thus  evincing  the  profoundest  of  all  infidelity — the  fear  lest 
the  truth  be  bad.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sincere  man  of 
science,  content  to  follow  wherever  the  evidence  leads  him, 
becomes  by  each  new  inquiry  more  profoundly  convinced 
that  the  Universe  is  an  insoluble  problem.  Alike  in  the 
external  and  the  internal  worlds,  he  sees  himself  in  the 
midst  of  perpetual  changes,  of  which  he  can  discover 
neither  the  beginning  nor  the  end.  If,  tracing  back  the 
evolution  of  things,  he  allows  himself  to  entertain  the 
hypothesis  that  all  matter  once  existed  in  a  diffused  form, 
he  finds  it  utterly  impossible  to  conceive  how  this  came  to 
be  so ;  and  equally,  if  he  speculates  on  the  future,  he  can 
assign  no  limit  to  the  grand  succession  of  phenomena  ever 
unfolding  themselves  before  him.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
he  looks  inward,  he  perceives  that  both  terminations  of 
the  thread  of  consciousness  are  beyond  his  grasp :  he  can- 
not remember  when  or  how  consciousness  commenced, 
and  he  cannot  examine  the  consciousness  that  at  any  mo- 
ment exists;  for  only  a  state  of  consciousness  that  is 
already  past  can  become  the  object  of  thought,  and  never 
one  which  is  passing. 

When,  again,  he  turns  from  the  succession  of  phenom- 
ena, external  or  internal,  to  their  essential  nature,  he  is 
equally  at  fault.  Though  he  may  succeed  in  resolving  all 
properties  of  objects  into  manifestations  of  force,  he  is  not 
thereby  enabled  to  realize  what  force  is ;  but  finds,  on  the 
contrary,  that  the  more  he  thinks  about  it,  the  more  he  is 
baffled.  Similarly,  though  analysis  of  mental  actions  may 
finally  bring  him  down  to  sensations  as  the  original  ma- 
terials out  of  which  all  thought  is  woven,  he  is  none  the 
forwarder ;  for  he  cannot  in  the  le^st  comprehend  sensa- 
tion— cannot  even  conceive  how  sensation  is  possible.  In- 
ward and  outward  things  he  thus  discovers  to  be  alike 
inscrutable  in  their  ultimate  genesis  and  nature.     He  see,"? 


60  PROGEESS  :    ITS   LAW   AND   CAUSE. 

that  the  Materialist  and  Spiritualist  controversy  is  a  mere 
war  of  words  ;  the  disputants  being  equally  absurd — each 
believing  he  understands  that  which  it  is  impossible  for 
any  man  to  understand.  In  all  directions  his  investigations 
eventually  bring  him  face  to  face  with  the  unknowable ; 
and  he  ever  more  clearly  perceives  it  to  be  the  unknowable. 
He  learns  at  once  the  greatness  and  the  littleness  of  human 
intellect — its  power  in  dealing  with  all  that  comes  within 
the  range  of  experience ;  its  impotence  in  dealing  with  all 
that  transcends  exjDerience.  He  feels,  with  a  vividness 
which  no  others  can,  the  utter  incomprehensibleness  of 
the  simplest  fact,  considered  in  itself.  He  alone  truly 
sees  that  absolute  knowledge  is  impossible.  He  alone 
knows  that  under  all  things  there  lies  an  impenetrable 
mystery. 


II. 

MANNERS  AND  FASHION. 


"TXT^HOEYER  has  studied  the  physiognomy  of  political 
V  V  meetings,  cannot  fail  to  have  remarked  a  connection 
between  democratic  opinions  and  peculiarities  of  costume. 
At  a  Chartist  demonstration,  a  lecture  on  Socialism,  or  a 
soiree  of  the  Friends  of  Italy,  there  will  be  seen  many 
among  the  audience,  and  a  still  larger  ratio  among  the 
speakers,  who  get  themselves  up  in  a  style  more  or  less 
unusual.  One  gentleman  on  the  platform  divides  his  hair 
down  the  centre,  instead  of  on  one  side ;  another  brushes 
it  back  off  the  forehead,  in  the  fashion  known  as  "  bringing 
out  the  intellect ; ''  a  third  has  so  long  forsworn  the  scis- 
sors, that  his  locks  sweep  his  shoulders.  A  considerable 
sprinkling  of  moustaches  may  be  observed ;  here  and  th^re 
an  imperial ;  and  occasionally  some  courageous  breaker  of 
conventions  exhibits  a  full-grown  beard. "*  This  noncon- 
formity in  hair  is  countenanced  by  various  nonconformities 
in  dress,  shown  by  others  of  the  assemblage.  Bare  necks, 
shirt-collars  a  la  Byron,  waistcoats  cut  Quaker  fashion, 
wonderfully  shaggy  great  coats,  numerous  oddities  in  form 
and  colour,  destroy  the  monotony  usual  in  crowds.  Ever 
those  exhibiting  no  conspicuous  peculiarity,  frequently  in 

*  This  was  written  before  moustaches  and  beards  had  become  common. 


62  MANNEES   AND   FASHION. 

dicate  by  something  in  the  pattern  or  make-up  of  their 
clothes,  that  they  pay  small  regard  to  what  their  tailors 
tell  them  about  the  prevailing  taste.  And  when  the 
gathering  breaks  up,  the  yarieties  of  head  gear  displayed 
— the  number  of  caps,  and  the  abundance  of  felt  hat? 
• — suffice  to  prove  that  were  the  world  at  large  like-minded, 
the  black  cylinders  which  tyrannize  over  us  would  soon  be 
deposed. 

The  foreign  correspondence  of  our  daily  press  showa 
that  this  relationship)  between  political  discontent  and  the 
disregard  of  customs  exists  on  the  Continent  also.  Red 
republicanism  has  always  been  distinguished  by  its  hirsute- 
ness.  The  authorities  of  Prussia,  Austria,  and  Italy,  alike 
recognize  certain  forms  of  hat  as  indicative  of  disaffection, 
and  fulminate  against  them  accordingly.  In  some  places 
the  wearer  of  a  blouse  runs  a  risk  of  beino^  classed  amonoj 
the  suspects  J  and  in  others,  he  who  w^ould  avoid  the  bureau 
of  police,  must  beware  how  he  goes  out  in  any  but  the 
ordinary  colours.  Thus,  democracy  abroad,  as  at  home, 
tends  towards  personal  singularity. 

ISTor  is  this  association  of  characteristics  peculiar  to 
modern  times,  or  to  reformers  of  the  State.  It  has  always 
existed ;  and  it  has  been  manifested  as  much  in  relio^ious 
agitations  as  in  pohtical  ones.  Along  with  dissent  from 
the  chief  established  opinions  and  arrangements,  there  has 
ever  been  some  dissent  from  the  customary  social  practices. 
The  Puritans,  disapproving  of  the  long  curls  of  the  Cava- 
liers, as  of  their  principles,  cut  their  own  hair  short,  and  so 
gained  the  name  of  "  Roundheads."  The  marked  rehgious 
nonconformity  of  the  Quakers  was  accompanied  by  an 
equally-marked  nonconformity  of  manners — in  attire,  in 
speech,  in  salutation.  The  early  Moravians  not  only 
believed  differently,  but  at  the  same  time  dressed  dif- 
ferently, and  lived  differently,  from  their  fellow  Christians. 

That   the   association   between    political   independence 


RELATION   BETWEEN   IDEAS   AND   COSTUMES.  63 

and  independence  of  personal  conduct,  is  not  a  phenome- 
non of  to-day  only,  we  may  see  alike  in  the  appearance  ol 
Franklin  at  the  French  court  in  plain  clothes,  and  in  the 
white  hats  worn  by  the  last  generation  of  radicals.  Origi- 
nality of  nature  is  sure  to  show  itself  in  more  ways  than 
one.  The  mention  of  George  Fox's  suit  of  leather,  or 
Pestalozzi's  school  name,  "Harry  Oddity,"  will  at  once 
suggest  the  remembrance  that  men  who  have  in  great 
things  diverged  from  the  beaten  track,  have  frequently 
done  so  in  small  things  likewise.  Minor  ilhistrations  of 
this  truth  may  be  gathered  in  almost  every  circle.  We 
believe  that  whoever  will  number  up  his  reforming  and 
rationalist  acquaintances,  will  find  among  them  more  than 
the  usual  proportion  of  those  who  in  dress  or  behaviour 
exhibit  some  degree  of  what  the  world  calls  eccentricity. 

If  it  be  a  fact  that  men  of  revolutionary  aims  in  politics 
or  religion,  are  commonly  revolutionists  in  custom  also, 
it  is  not  less  a  fact  that  those  whose  office  it  is  to  uphold 
established  arrangements  in  State  and  Church,  are  also 
those  who  most  adhere  to  the  social  forms  and  obser- 
vances bequeathed  to  us  by  past  generations.  Practices 
elsewhere  extinct  still  linger  about  the  headquarters  of 
government.  The  monarch  still  gives  assent  to  Acts  of 
Parliament  in  the  old  French  of  the  Normans ;  and  Nor- 
man French  terms  are  still  used  in  law.  Wigs,  such  as 
those  we  see  depicted  in  old  portraits,  may  yet  be  found 
on  the  heads  of  judges  and  barristers.  The  Beefeaters 
at  the  Tower  wear  the  costume  of  Henry  YHth's  body- 
guard. The  University  dress  of  the  present  year  varies 
but  little  from  that  worn  soon  after  the  Reformation. 
The  claret-coloured  coat,  knee-breeches,  lace  shirt  frills, 
rufiies,  white  silk  stockings,  and  buckled  shoes,  which 
once  formed  the  usual  attire  of  a  gentleman,  still  survive 
as  the  court-dress.  And  it  need  scarcely  be  said  that  at 
levees  and  drawing-rooms,  the  ceremonies  are  prescribed 


64  MANNERS   AKD   FASHION. 

with  an   exactness,  and  enforced  with  a  rigour,  not  else 
where  to  be  found. 

Can  we  consider  these  two  series  of  coincidences  aa 
accidental  and  unmeaning  ?  Must  we  not  rather  conclude 
that  some  necessary  relationship  obtains  between  them  ? 
Are  there  not  such  things  as  a  constitutional  conservatism, 
and  a  constitutional  tendency  to  change  ?  Is  there  not  a 
class  which  clings  to  the  old  in  all  things ;  and  another 
class  so  in  love  with  progress  as  often  to  mistake  novelty 
for  improvement  ?  Do  we  not  find  some  men  ready  to 
bow  to  established  authority  of  whatever  kind ;  while 
others  demand  of  every  such  authority  its  reason,  and 
reject  it  if  it  fails  to  justify  itself?  And  must  not  the 
minds  thus  contrasted  tend  to  become  respectively  con- 
formist and  nonconformist,  not  only  in  politics  and  religion, 
but  in  other  things  ?  Submission,  whether  to  a  govern- 
ment, to  the  dogmas  of  ecclesiastics,  or  to  that  code  of 
behaviour  which  society  at  large  has  set  up,  is  essentially 
of  the  same  nature ;  and  the  sentiment  which  induces 
resistance  to  the  despotism  of  rulers,  civil  or  spiritual,  like- 
wise induces  resistance  to  the  despotism  of  the  world's 
opinion.  Look  at  them  fundamentally,  and  all  enactments, 
alike  of  the  legislature,  the  consistory,  and  the  saloon — all 
regulations,  formal  or  virtual,  have  a  common  character : 
they  are  all  limitations  of  men's  freedom.  "  Do  this — 
Refrain  from  that,"  are  the  blank  formulas  into  which  they 
may  all  be  written  :  and  in  each  case  the  understanding  is 
that  obedience  will  bring  approbation  here  and  paradise 
hereafter ;  while  disobedience  will  entail  imprisonment,  or 
sending  to  Coventry,  or  eternal  torments,  as  the  case  may 
be.  And  if  restraints,  however  named,  and  through  what- 
ever apparatus  of  means  exercised,  are  one  in  their  action 
upon  men,  it  must  happen  that  those  who  are  patient  under 
one  kind  of  restraint,  are  likely  to  be  patient  under  another; 
and  conversely,  that  those  impatient  of  restraint  in  general, 


ORIGIN    OF   LAW,  RELIGION,  AND   MANNERS.  65 

will,  on  the  average,  tend  to  show  their  irajDatience  in  all 
directions. 

That  Law,  Religion,  and  Manners  are  thus  related — 
that  their  respective  kinds  of  operation  come  under  one 
generalization — that  they  have  in  certain  contrasted  charac- 
teristics of  men  a  common  support  and  a  cpmmon  danger 
—will,  however,  be  most  clearly  seen  on  discovering  that 
they  have  a  common  origin.  Little  as  from  present  ap- 
pearances we  should  suppose  it,  we  shall  yet  find  that  at 
first,  the  control  of  religion,  the  control  of  laws,  and  the 
control  of  manners,  were  all  one  control.  However  in- 
credible it  may  now  seem,  we  believe  it  to  be  demonstrable 
that  the  rules  of  etiquette,  the  provisions  of  the  statute- 
book,  and  the  commands  of  the  decalogue,  have  grown 
from  the  same  root.  If  we  go  far  enough  back  into  the 
ages  of  primeval  Fetishism,  it  becomes  manifest  that 
originally  Deity,  Chief,  and  Master  of  the  ceremonies  were 
identical.  To  make  good  these  positions,  and  to  show 
their  bearing  on  what  is  to  follow,  it  will  be  necessary 
here  to  traverse  ground  that  is  in  part  somewhat  beaten, 
and  at  first  sight  irrelevant  to  our  topic.  We  will  pass 
over  it  as  quickly  as  consists  with  the  exigencies  of  the 
argument. 

That  the  earliest  social  aggregations  were  ruled  solely 
by  the  will  of  the  strong  man,  few  dispute.  That  from  the 
strong  man  proceeded  not  only  Monarchy,  but  the  concep- 
tion of  a  God,  few  admit :  much  as  Carlyle  and  others  have 
said  in  evidence  of  it.  If,  however,  those  who  are  unable 
to  believe  this,  will  lay  aside  the  ideas  of  God  and  man  in 
which  they  have  been  educated,  and  study  the  aboriginal 
deas  of  them,  they  will  at  least  see  some  probability  in 
the  hypothesis.  Let  them  remember  that  before  experl 
ence  had  yet  taught  men  to  distinguish  between  the  possi- 
ble and  the  impossible ;  and  while  they  were  ready  on  the 


bb  MAira'EES   AOT3   FASHTOX. 

slightest  suggestion  to  ascribe  unknown  joowers  to  any  ob 
ject  and  make  a  fetish  of  it ;  their  conceiotions  of  liuman- 
ity  and  its  capacities  were  necessarily  vague,  and  without 
specific  limits.  The  man  who  by  unusual  strength,  or  cuii 
ning,  achieved  something  that  others  had  failed  to  achieve, 
or  something  which  they  did  not  understand,  was  considered 
by  them  as  differing  from  themselves  ;  and,  as  we  see  in  the 
belief  of  some  Polynesians  that  only  their  chiefs  have  souls, 
or  in  that  of  the  ancient  Peruvians  that  their  nobles  were  di- 
vine by  birth,  the  ascribed  difference  was  apt  to  be  not  one  of 
degree  only,  but  one  of  kind. 

Let  them  remember  next,  how  gross  were  the  notions 
of  God,  or  rather  of  gods,  prevalent  during  the  same  era 
and  afterwards — how  concretely  gods  were  conceived  as 
men  of  specific  aspects  dressed  in  specific  ways — how  their 
names  were  literally  "  the  strong,"  "  the  destroyer,"  "  the 
powerful  one," — how,  according  to  the  Scandinavian  my- 
thology, the  "sacred  duty  of  blood-revenge"  was  acted 
on  by  the  gods  themselves, — and  how  they  were  not  only 
human  in  their  vindictiveness,  their  cruelty,  and  their 
quarrels  with  each  other,  but  were  supposed  to  have  amours 
on  earth,  and  to  consume  the  viands  placed  on  their  altars. 
Add  to  which,  that  in  various  mythologies,  Greek,  Scandi- 
navian, and  others,  the  oldest  beings  are  giants  ;  that  ac- 
cording to  a  traditional  genealogy  the  gods,  demi-gods, 
and  in  some  cases  men,  are  descended  from  these  after  the 
human  fashion  ;  and  that  while  in  the  East  we  hear  of  sons  of 
God  who  saw  the  daughters  of  men  that  they  were  fair, 
the  Teutonic  myths  tell  of  unions  between  the  sons  of  men 
and  the  daughters  of  the  o^ods. 

Let  them  remember,  too,  that  at  first  the  idea  of  death 
differed  widely  from  that  which  we  have  ;  that  there  are 
btill  tribes  who,  on  the  decease  of  one  of  their  number,  at* 
tempt  to  make  the  corpse  stand,  and  put  food  into  his  mouth ; 
that  the  Peruvians  had  feasts  at  which  the  mummies  of  their 


PRIMITIVE   RELIGIOUS   IDEAS.  G7 

dead  Incas  presided,  when,  as  Prescott  says,  they  paid  atten- 
tion "  to  these  insensible  remains  as  if  they  were  instinct  with 
life ;  "  that  among  the  Fejees  it  is  believed  that  every  enemy 
has  to  be  killed  twice  ;  that  the  Eastern  Pagans  give  exten- 
sion and  figure  to  the  soul,  and  attribute  to  it  all  the  same  sub- 
stances, both  solid  and  liquid,  of  which  our  bodies  are  compoa- 
ed  ;  and  that  it  is  the  custom  among  most  barbarous  races  to 
bury  food,  weapons,  and  trinkets  along  with  the  dead  body, 
under  the  manifest  belief  that  it  will  presently  need  them. 

Lastly,  let  them  remember  that  the  other  world,  as  ori- 
ginally conceived,  is  simply  some  distant  part  of  this  world 
— some  Elysian  fields,  some  happy  hunting-ground,  accessi- 
ble even  to  the  living,  and  to  which,  after  death,  men 
travel  in  anticipation  of  a  life  analogous  in  general  charac- 
ter to  that  which  they  led  before.  Then,  co-ordinating  these 
general  facts — the  ascription  of  unknown  powers  to  chiefs 
and  medicine  men ;  the  belief  in  deities  having  human 
forms,  passions,  and  behaviour ;  the  imperfect  comprehen- 
sion of  death  as  distinguished  from  life ;  and  the  proximity 
of  the  future  abode  to  the  present,  both  in  *  position  and 
character — let  them  reflect  whether  they  do  not  almost  un- 
avoidably suggest  the  conclusion  that  the  aboriginal  god 
is  the  dead  chief:  the  chief  not  dead  in  our  sense,  but 
gone  away  carrying  with  him  food  and  weapons  to  some 
rumoured  region  of  plenty,  some  promised  land,  whither  he 
had  long  intended  to  lead  his  followers,  and  whence  he  will 
presently  return  to  fetch  them. 

This  hypothesis  once  entertained,  is  seen  to  harmonize 
with  all  primitive  ideas  and  practices.  The  sons  of  the  dei- 
fied chief  reigning  after  him,  it  necessarily  happens  that  all 
early  kings  are  held  descendants  of  the  gods;  and  the  fact 
that  alike  in  Assyria,  Egypt,  among  the  Jews,  Phoenicians, 
and  ancient  Britons,  kings'  names  were  formed  out  of  the 
names  of  the  gods,  is  fully  explained.  The  genesis  of  Poly- 
theism out  of  Fetishism,  by  the   successive  migrations  of 


68  MANNERS    AND   FASHION. 

the  race  of  god-kings  to  the  other  world — a  genesis  illus- 
trated in  the  Greek  mythology,  alike  by  the  precise  gene- 
alogy of  the  deities,  and  by  the  specifically  asserted  apothe- 
osis of  the  later  ones — tends  further  to  bear  it  out.  It  ex- 
plains the  fact  that  in  the  old  creeds,  as  in  the  still  extant 
creed  of  the  Otaheitans,  every  family  has  its  guardian 
spirit,  who  is  supposed  to  be  one  of  their  departed  rela- 
tives ;  and  that  they  sacrifice  to  these  as  minor  gods — a 
practice  still  pursued  by  the  Chinese  and  even  by  the  Rus- 
sians. It  is  perfectly  congruous  with  the  Grecian  myths 
concerning  the  wars  of  the  Gods  with  the  Titans  and  their 
final  usurpation  ;  and  it  similarly  agrees  with  the  fact  that 
among  the  Teutonic  gods  proper  was  one  Freir  who  came 
among  them  by  adoption,  "but  was  born  among  the  Fanes,  a 
somewhat  mysterious  other  dynasty  of  gods,  who  had  been 
conquered  and  superseded  by  the  stronger  and  more  warlike 
Odin  dynasty."  It  harmonizes,  too,  with  the  behef  that  there 
are  different  gods  to  different  territories  and  nations,  as  there 
were  different  chiefs ;  that  these  gods  contend  for  supremacy 
as  chiefs  do;  and  it  gives  meaning  to  the  boast  of  neighbour- 
ing tribes — "Our  god  is  greater  than  your  god."  It  is  con- 
firmed by  the  notion  universally  current  in  early  times,  that 
the  gods  come  from  this  other  abode,  in  which  they  common- 
ly live,  and  appear  among  men — speak  to  them,  help  them, 
punish  them.  And  remembering  this,  it  becomes  manifest 
that  the  prayers  put  up  by  primitive  i^eoples  to  their  gods  for 
aid  in  battle,  are  meant  literally — that  their  gods  are  exj^ect- 
ed  to  come  back  from  the  other  kingdom  they  are  reigning 
over,  and  once  more  fight  the  old  enemies  they  had  before 
warred  against  so  implacably ;  and  it  needs  but  to  name  the 
Iliad,  to  remind  every  one  how  thoroughly  they  believed  the 
expectation  fulfilled. 

All  government,  then,  being  originally  that  of  the 
gtrong  man  who  has  become  a  fetish  by  some  manifestation  ol 
superiority,  there  arises,  at  his  death — his  supj^osed  dopar* 


SEPARATION  OF  CIVIL  FEOM  RELIGIOUS  AUTHORITY.      69 

ture  on  a  long  jDvojected  expedition,  in  which  he  is  accom- 
panied by  his  slaves  and  concubines  sacrificed  at  his  tomb 
— there  arises,  then,  the  incipient  division  of  religious  from 
political  control,  of  civil  rule  from  spiritual.  His  son  be- 
comes deputed  chief  during  his  absence  ;  his  authority  is 
cited  as  that  by  which  his  son  acts;  his  vengeance  is  invok- 
ed on  all  who  disobey  his  son ;  and  his  commands,  as  pre- 
viously known  or  as  asserted  by  his  son,  become  the  germ 
of  a  moral  code  :  a  fact  we  shall  the  more  clearly  perceive 
if  we  remember,  that  early  moral  codes  inculcate  mainly 
the  virtues  of  the  warrior,  and  the  duty  of  exterminating 
some  neighbouring  tribe  w^hose  existence  is  an  offence  to 
the  deity. 

From  this  point  onwards,  these  two  kinds  of  authority, 
at  first  complicated  together  as  those  of  principal  and  agent, 
become  slowly  more  and  more  distinct.  As  experience  ac- 
cumulates, and  ideas  of  causation  grow  more  precise,  kings 
lose  their  supernatural  attributes ;  and,  instead  of  God- 
king,  become  God-descended  king,  God-appointed  king^ 
the  Lord's  anointed,  the  vicegerent  of  heaven,  ruler  reign- 
ing by  Divine  right.  The  old  theory,  however,  long  clings 
to  men  in  feeling,  after  it  has  disappeared  in  name  ;  and 
"  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king,"  that  even  now,  many, 
on  first  seing  one,  feel  a  secret  surprise  at  finding  him  an 
ordinary  sample  of  humanity.  The  sacredness  attaching 
to  royalty  attaches  afterwards  to  its  appended  institutions 
— to  legislatures,  to  laws.  Legal  and  illegal  are  synony- 
mous with  right  and  wrong  ;  the  authority  of  Parliament 
is  held  unlimited ;  and  a  lingering  faith  in  governmental 
power  continually  generates  unfounded  hopes  from  its  en- 
actments. Political  scepticism,  however,  having  destroyed 
the  divine  prestige  of  royalty,  goes  on  ever  increasing, 
and  promises  ultimately  to  reduce  the  State  to  a  purely 
Secular  institution,  whose  regulations  are  limited  in  their 
sphere,  and  have  no  other  authority  than  the  general  will 


70  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

Meanwhile,  the  religious  control  has  been  little  by  little 
separating  itself  from  the  civil,  both  in  its  essence  and  in 
its  forms.  While  irom  the  God-king  of  the  savage  have 
arisen  in  one  direction,  secular  rulers  who,  age  by  age, 
have  been  losing  the  sacred  attributes  men  ascribed  to 
them  ;  there  has  arisen  in  another  direction,  the  conception 
cf  a  deity,  who,  at  first  human  in  all  things,  has  been  grad- 
ually losing  human  materiahty,  human  form,  human  passions, 
human  modes  of  action  :  until  now,  anthropomorphism  has 
become  a  reproach. 

Along  with  this  wide  divergence  in  men's  ideas  of  the 
divine  and  civil  ruler  has  been  taking  place  a  corresponding 
divergence  in  the  codes  of  conduct  respectively  proceeding 
from  them.  While  the  king  was  a  deputy-god — a  governor 
such  as  the  Jews  looked  for  in  the  Messiah — a  governor 
considered,  as  the  Czar  still  is,  "  our  God  upon  Earth," — 
it,  of  course,  followed  that  his  commands  were  the  supreme 
rules.  But  as  men  ceased  to  believe  in  his  supernatural 
origin  and  nature,  his  commands  ceased  to  be  the  highest ; 
and  there  arose  a  distinction  between  the  regulations  made 
by  him,  and  the  regulations  handed  down  from  the  old 
god-kings,  who  were  rendered  ever  more  sacred  by  time 
and  the  accumulation  of  myths.  Hence  came  respectively, 
Law  and  Morality :  the  one  growing  ever  more  concrete, 
the  other  more  abstract ;  the  authority  of  the  one  ever  on 
the  decrease,  that  of  the  other  ever  on  the  increase ;  origi- 
nally the  same,  but  now  placed  daily  in  more  marked  an- 
tagonism. 

Simultaneously  there  has  been  going  on  a  separation  of 
the  institutions  administering  these  two  codes  of  conduct. 
While  they  were  yet  one,  of  course  Church  and  State  were 
one  ;  the  king  was  arch-priest,  not  nominally,  but  really — 
alike  the  giver  of  new  commands  and  the  chief  interpreter 
of  the  old  commands ;  and  the  deputy-priests  coming  out 
of  his  family  were  thus  simply  expounders  of  the  dictates 


SEPARATION    OF    CHUKCH    AND    STATE.  71 

of  tlieir  ancestry  :  at  first  as  recollected,  and  afterwards  as 
ascertained  by  professed  interviews  with  them.  This  union 
— which  still  existed  -practically  durmg  the  middle  ages, 
when  the  authority  of  kings  was  mixed  up  with  the  author- 
ity  of  the  pope,  when  there  were  bishop-rulers  having  all 
the  powers  of  feudal  lords,  and  when  priests  punished  by 
penances — has  been,  step  by  step,  becoming  less  close. 
Though  monarchs  are  still  "  defenders  of  the  iaith," 
and  ecclesiastical  chiefs,  they  are  but  nominally  such. 
Though  bishops  still  have  civil  power,  it  is  not  what  they 
once  had.  Protestantism  shook  loose  the  bonds  of  union  ; 
Dissent  has  long  been  busy  in  organizing  a  mechanism  for 
the  exercise  of  religious  control,  wholly  independent  of 
law ;  in  America,  a  separate  organization  for  that  purpose 
already  exists ;  and  if  anything  is  to  be  hoped  from  the 
Anti  State-Church  Association — or,  as  it  has  been  newly 
named,  "  The  Society  for  the  Liberation  of  Religion  from 
State  Patronage  and  Control " — w^e  shall  presently  have  a 
separate  organization  here  also. 

Thus  alike  in  authority,  in  essence,  and  in  form,  politi- 
cal and  spiritual  rule  have  been  ever  more  widely  diverging 
from  the  same  root.  That  increasing  division  of  labour 
which  marks  the  progress  of  society  in  other  things,  marks 
it  also  in  this  separation  of  government  into  civil  and  reli- 
gious; and  if  we  observe  how  the  morality  which  forms  the 
substance  of  religions  in  general,  is  beginning  to  be  puri- 
fied from  the  associated  creeds,  we  may  anticipate  that  this 
division  will  be  ultimately  carried  much  further. 

Passing  now  to  the  third  sj^ecies  of  control — ^that  of 
Manners — we  shall  find  that  this,  too,  while  it  had  a  com- 
mon genesis  with  the  others,  has  gradually  come  to  have  a 
distinct  sphere  and  a  special  embodiment.  Among  early 
aggregations  of  men  before  yet  social  observances  existed, 
the  sole  forms  of  courtesy  know^n  were  the  signs  of  sub- 
mis.sion  to  the  strong  man ;  as  the  sole  law  was  his  will. 


72  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

and  tlie  sole  religion  the  awe  of  his  supposed  supernatural- 
ness.  Originally,  ceremonies  were  modes  of  behaviour  to 
the  god-king.  Our  commonest  titles  have  been  derived 
from  his  names.  And  all  salutations  were  primarily  wor- 
ship paid  to  him.  Let  us  trace  out  these  truths  in  detail, 
beginning  with  titles. 

The  fact  already  noticed,  that  the  names  of  early  kings 
among  divers  races  are  formed  by  the  addition  of  certain 
syllables  to  the  names  of  their  gods — which  certain  sylla- 
bles, like  our  Mae  and  Fltz^  probably  mean  *'  son  of,"  or 
"descended  from" — at  once  gives  meaning  to  the  term 
Father  as  a  divine  title.  And  when  we  read,  in  Selden, 
that  "  the  composition  out  of  these  names  of  Deities  was 
not  only  proper  to  Kings :  their  Grandes  and  more  honora- 
ble Subjects"  (no  doubt  members  of  the  royal  race)  "  had 
sometimes  the  like  ; "  we  see  how  the  term  Father ^  prop- 
erly used  by  these  also,  and  by  their  multiplying  descend- 
ants, came  to  be  a  title  used  by  the  people  in  general.  And 
it  is  significant  as  bearing  on  this  point,  that  among  the 
most  barbarous  nation  in  Europe,  where  belief  in  the  di- 
vine nature  of  the  ruler  still  lingers,  Father  in  this  higher 
sense  is  still  a  regal  distinction.  When,  again,  we  remem- 
ber how  the  divinity  at  first  ascribed  to  kings  was  not  a 
complimentary  fiction  but  a  supposed  fact ;  and  how,  fur- 
ther, under  the  Fetish  philosophy  the  celestial  bodies  are 
believed  to  be  personages  who  once  lived  among  men  ;  we 
see  that  the  appellations  of  oriental  rulers,  "  Brother  to  the 
Sun,"  &c.,  were  probably  once  expressive  of  a  genuine  be- 
lief; and  have  simply,  like  many  other  things,  continued  in 
use  after  all  meaning  has  gone  out  of  them.  "We  may 
infer,  too,  that  the  titles  God,  Lord,  Divinity,  were  given 
to  primitive  rulers  literally — that  the  nostra  divinitas  ap- 
plied to  the  Roman  emperors,  and  the  various  sacred  des 
ignations  that  have  been  borne  by  monarchs,  down  to  the 
Btill  extant  phrase,  '*  Our  Lord  the  King,"  are  the  dead  and 


DERIVATION   OF    HONORARY    TITLES.  Y3 

dying  forms  of  what  were  once  living  facts.  From  these 
names,  God,  Father,  Lord,  Divinity,  originally  belonging 
to  the  God-king,  and  afterwards  to  God  and  the  king,  the 
derivation  of  our  commonest  titles  of  respect  is  clearly 
traceable. 

There  is  reason  to  think  that  these  titles  were  originally 
proper  names.  Not  only  do  we  see  among  the  Egyptians, 
where  Pharaoh  was  synonymous  with  king,  and  among  the 
Romans,  where  to  be  Coesar,  meant  to  be  Emperor,  that 
the  proper  names  of  the  greatest  men  were  transferred  to 
their  successors,  and  so  became  class  names ;  but  in  the 
Scandinavian  mythology  we  may  trace  a  human  title  of 
honour  up  to  the  proper  name  of  a  divine  personage.  In 
Anglo-Saxon  healdor^  or  haldor^  means  Lord  j  and  Balder 
is  the  name  of  the  favourite  of  Odin's  sons — the  gods  who 
with  him  constitute  the  Teutonic  Pantheon.  How  these 
names  of  honour  became  general  is  easily  understood. 
The  relatives  of  the  primitive  kings — the  grandees  de- 
scribed by  Selden  as  having  names  formed  on  those  of  the 
gods,  and  shown  by  this  to  be  members  of  the  divine  race 
. — necessarily  shared  in  the  epithets,  such  as  Lord^  descrip- 
tive of  superhuman  relationships  and  nature.  Their  ever- 
multiplying  offspring  inheriting  these,  gradually  rendered 
them  comparatively  common.  And  then  they  came  to  be 
applied  to  every  man  of  power :  partly  from  the  fact  that, 
in  these  early  days  when  men  conceived  divinity  simply  as 
a  stronger  kind  of  humanity,  great  persons  could  be  called 
by  divine  epithets  with  but  little  exaggeration ;  partly  from 
the  fact  that  the  unusually  potent  were  apt  to  be  consid- 
ered as  unrecognized  or  illegitimate  descendants  of  "  the 
strong,  the  destroyer,  the  powerful  one  ;"  and  partly,  also, 
from  comiDliment  and  the  desire  to  j^ropitiate. 

Progressively  as  superstition  diminished,  this  last  be- 
came the  sole  cause.  And  if  we  remember  that  it  is  the 
nature  of  compliment,  as  we  daily  hear  it,  to  attribute 
4 


74  MAl^^NERS   AND   FASHION. 

more  tkau  is  due — that  in  the  constantly  widening  applica- 
tion of  "  esquire,"  in  the  perpetual  repetition  of  "  your 
honour"  by  the  fawning  Irishman,  and  in  the  use  of  the 
name  "  gentleman "  to  any  coalheaver  or  dustman  by  the 
lower  classes  of  London,  we  have  current  examples  of  the 
depreciation  of  titles  consequent  on  compliment — a£id  that 
in  barbarous  times,  when  the  wish  to  propitiate  was  stronger 
than  now,  this  efiect  must  have  been  greater ;  we  shall  see 
that  there  naturally  arose  an  extensive  misuse  of  all  early 
distinctions.  Hence  the  facts,  that  the  Jews  called  Herod 
a  god ;  that  Father^  in  its  higher  sense,  was  a  term  used 
among  them  by  servants  to  masters ;  that  Lord  was  appli- 
cable to  any  j)erson  of  worth  and  power.  Hence,  too,  the 
fact  that,  in  the  later  periods  of  the  Roman  Empire,  every 
man  saluted  his  neighbour  as  Dominus  and  Mex. 

But  it  is  in  the  titles  of  the  middle  ages,  and  in  the 
growth  of  our  modern  ones  out  of  them,  that  the  process 
is  most  clearly  seen.  Serr^  Don^  Signior^  Seigneur^  Sen- 
noi\  were  all  originally  names  of  rulers — of  feudal  lords. 
By  the  complimentary  use  of  these  names  to  all  who  could, 
on  any  pretence,  be  supposed  to  merit  them,  and  by  suc- 
cessive degradations  of  them  from  each  step  in  the  descent 
to  a  still  lower  one,  they  have  come  to  be  common  forms 
of  address.  At  first  the  phrase  in  which  a  serf  acosted  his 
ilespotic  chief,  meiii  herr  is  now  familiarly  ai^pliedin  Ger- 
many to  ordinary  people.  The  Spanish  title  Don^  once 
proper  to  noblemen  and  gentlemen  only,  is  now  accorded 
to  all  classes.  So,  too,  is  it  with  Slgiiior'Yo.  Italy.  Seigneur ^ 
and  Monseig7ieur^  by  contraction  in  Sleiir  and  Monsieur^ 
have  produced  the  term  of  respect  claimed  by  every 
Frenchman.  And  whether  8ire  be  or  be  not  a  like  con- 
traction of  Signior^  it  is  clear  that,  as  it  was  borne  by  sun- 
dry of  the  ancient  feudal  lords  of  France,  who,  as  Selden 
says,  "  aifected  rather  to  bee  stiled  by  the  name  of  Sire 
than   Baron,   as  Le    Sire  de  Montmorencie^   Le   Sire  de 


DEPEECIATION    OF   HONOKATJY   TITLES.  Y5 

Beauieu,  and  the  like,"  and  as  it  has  been  commonly  used 
to  monarchs,  our  word  jSir,  which  is  derived  from  it,  ori- 
ginally meant  lord  or  king.  Thus,  too,  is  it  with  feminine 
titles.  Lady^  which,  according  to  Home  Tooke,  means  eX' 
alted^  and  was  at  first  given  only  to  the  few,  is  now  given 
to  all  women  of  education.  Danie^  once  an  honourable 
name  to  which,  in  old  books,  we  find  the  epithets  of  "  high- 
born "  and  "  stately  "  affixed,  has  now,  by  repeated  widen- 
iugs  of  its  ajjplication,  become  relatively  a  term  of  contempt. 
And  if  we  trace  the  compound  of  this,  ma  Dame^  through 
its  contractions — 3Iadam^  ma'ams  mam^  mum^  we  find  that 
the  "  Yes'm  "  of  Sally  to  her  mistress  is  originally  equiva- 
lent to  "Yes,  my  exalted,"  or  "Yes,  your  highness." 
Throughout,  therefore,  the  genesis  of  words  of  honour  has 
been  the  same.  Just  as  with  the  Jews  and  with  the  Ro- 
mans, has  it  been  with  the  modern  Europeans.  Tracing 
these  everyday  names  to  their  primitive  significations  ot 
lord  and  king,  and  remembering  that  in  aboriginal  societies 
these  were  applied  only  to  the  gods  and  their  descendants, 
we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  our  familiar  jSir  and  Moti- 
sieiir  are,  in  their  primary  and  expanded  meanings,  terms 
of  adoration. 

Further  to  illustrate  this  gradual  depreciation  of  titles, 
and  to  confirm  the  inference  drawn,  it  may  be  well  to  no- 
tice in  i^assing,  that  the  oldest  of  them  have,  as  might  be 
expected,  been  depreciated  to  the  greatest  extent.  Thus, 
Master — a  word  proved  by  its  derivation  and  by  the  simi- 
larity of  the  connate  words  in  other  languages  (Fr.,  maitre 
for  master ;  Russ.,  master ;  Dan.,  meester  ;  Ger.,  meister) 
to  have  been  one  of  the  earliest  in  use  for  expressing 
lordship — has  now  become  applicable  to  children  only, 
and  under  the  modification  of  "  Mister,"  to  persons  next 
above  the  labourer.  Again,  knighthood,  the  oldest  kind 
of  dignity,  is  also  the  lowest ;  and  Knight  Bachelor,  which 
IS  the  lowest  order  of  kniohthood,  is  more  ancient  than 


76  MANNERS   AND   lABHION. 

any  other  of  the  orders.  Similarly,  too,  with  the  peerage 
Baron  is  alike  the  earliest  and  least  elevated  of  its  divi- 
sions.  This  continual  degradation  of  all  names  of  honor  has, 
from  time  to  time,  made  it  requisite  to  introduce  new  ones 
having  that  distinguishing  effect  which  the  originals  had 
lost  by  generality  of  use ;  just  as  our  habit  of  misapplying 
superlatives  has,  by  gradually  destroying  their  force,  entail- 
ed the  need  for  fresh  ones.  And  if,  within  the  last  thousand 
years,  this  process  has  produced  effects  thus  marked,  we 
may  readily  conceive  how,  during  previous  thousands,  the 
titles  of  gods  and  demi-gods  came  to  be  used  to  all  persons 
exercising  power ;  as  they  have  since  come  to  be  used  to 
persons  of  respectability. 

If  from  names  of  honour  we  turn  to  phrases  of  honour, 
we  find  similar  facts.  The  Oriental  styles  of  address,  ap- 
plied to  ordinary  j^eoj^le — "  I  am  your  slave,"  "  All  I  have  is 
yours,"  "  I  am  your  sacrifice  " — attribute  to  the  individual 
spoken  to  the  same  greatness  that  Monsieur  and  3Iy  Lord 
do:  they  ascribe  to  him  the  character  of  an  all-powerful 
ruler,  so  immeasurably  superior  to  the  speaker  as  to  be  his 
owner.  So,  likewise,  with  the  Polish  expressions  of  respect 
— "I  throw  myself  under  j^our  feet,"  "I  kiss  your  feet." 
In  our  now  meaningless  subscription  to  a  formal  letter — • 
"  Your  most  obedient  servant,"  — the  same  thing  is  visible. 
Nay,  even  in  the  familiar  signature  "  Yours  faithfully,"  the 
"  yours,"  if  interpreted  as  originally  meant,  is  the  exj^res- 
eion  of  a  slave  to  his  master. 

All  these  dead  forms  were  once  living  embodiments  of 
fact — were  primarily  the  genuine  indications  of  that  submis- 
sion to  authority  which  they  verbally  assert ;  were  after- 
wards naturally  used  by  the  weak  and  cowardly  to  pro- 
pitiate those  above  them  ;  gradually  grew  to  be  considered 
the  due  of  such  ;  and,  by  a  continually  wider  misuse,  have 
lost  their  meanings,  as  Sir  and  Master  have  done.  That, 
like  titles,  they  were  in  the  beginning  used  only  to  the 


ORIGIN   OF   PHRASES   OF   nONOUR.  77 

God-king,  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that,  like  titles,  they  were 
subsequently  used  in  common  to  God  and  the  king.  Ke- 
ligious  worship  has  ever  largely  consisted  of  professions  of 
obedience,  of  being  God's  servants,  of  belonging  to  him  to 
do  what  he  will  with.  Like  titles,  therefore,  these  common 
phrases  of  honour  had  a  devotional  origin. 

Perhaps,  however,  it  is  in  the  use  of  the  word  you  as  % 
singular  pronoun  that  the  popularizing  of  what  were  once 
supreme  distinctions  is  most  markedly  illustrated.  Thi? 
speaking  of  a  single  individual  in  the  j^l^^i'^l,  was  origi 
nally  an  honour  given  only  to  the  highest — w^as  the  recipro- 
cal of  the  imperial  "  we  "  assumed  by  such.  Yet  now,  by 
being  applied  to  successively  lower  and  lower  classes,  it 
has  become  all  but  universal.  Only  by  one  sect  of  Chris- 
tians, and  in  a  few  secluded  districts,  is  the  primitive  thou 
still  used.  And  the  yoii^  in  becoming  common  to  all  ranks 
has  simultaneously  lost  every  vestige  of  the  honour  once 
attachino;  to  it. 

But  the  genesis  of  Manners  out  of  forms  of  allegianc( 
and  worship,  is  above  all  shown  in  men's  modes  of  salutation, 
^ote  first  the  significance  of  the  word.  Among  the  Romans, 
the  salutatio  was  a  daily  homage  paid  by  clients  and  infe- 
riors to  superiors.  This  was  alike  the  case  with  civilians 
and  in  the  army.  The  very  derivation  of  our  word,  there- 
fore, is  suggestive  of  submission.  Passing  to  particular 
forms  of  obeisance  (mark  the  word  again),  let  us  begin  with 
the  Eastern  one  of  baring  the  feet.  This  was,  primarily,  a 
mark  of  reverence,  alike  to  a  god  and  a  king.  The  act  of 
Moses  before  the  burning  bush,  and  the  practice  of  Mahom- 
etans, who  are  sworn  on  the  Koran  with  their  shoes  off,  ex- 
emplify the  one  employment  of  it ;  the  custom  of  the  Per- 
sians, who  remove  their  shoes  on  entering  the  presence  of 
their  monarch,  exemplifies  the  other.  As  usual,  however, 
this  homage,  j^aid  TiCxt  to  inferior  rulers,  has  descended 
fi-om  grade  to  grade.     In  India,  it  is   a  common  mark  of 


78  MANIOIRS   AND    FASHION 

resj)ect ;  a  polite  man  in  Turkey  always  leaves  his  shoes  at 
the  door,  while  the  lower  orders  of  Turks  never  enter  the 
presence  of  their  superiors  but  in  their  stockings;  and  in 
Japan,  this  baring  of  the  feet  is  an  ordinary  salutation  of 
man  to  man. 

Take  another  case.  Selden,  describing  the  ceremonies 
of  the  Romans,  says  : — "  For  whereas  it  was  usual  either  to 
kiss  the  Images  of  their  Gods,  or  adoring  them,  to  stand 
somewhat  off  before  them,  solemnly  moving  the  right  hand 
to  the  lips,  and  then,  casting  it  as  if  they  had  cast  kisses,  to 
turne  the  body  on  the  same  hand  (which  was  the  right  forme 
of  Adoration),  it  grew  also  by  custom,  first  that  the  emperors, 
being  next  to  Deities,  and  by  some  accounted  as  Deities, 
had  the  like  done  to  them  in  acknowledgment  of  their 
Greatness."  If,  now,  we  call  to  mind  the  awkward  salute 
of  a  village  school-boy,  made  by  putting  his  open  hand  up 
to  his  face  and  describing  a  semicircle  with  his  forearm ; 
and  if  we  remember  that  the  salute  thus  used  as  a  form  of 
reverence  in  country  districts,  is  most  likely  a  remnant  of 
the  feudal  times ;  we  shall  see  reason  for  thinking  that  our 
common  wave  of  the  hand  to  a  friend  across  the  street,  re- 
presents what  w^as  primarily  a  devotional  act. 

Similarly  have  originated  all  forms  of  respect  depend- 
ing upon  inclinations  of  the  body.  Entire  prostration  is 
the  aboriginal  sign  of  submission.  The  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture, "  Thou  hast  put  all  under  his  feet,"  and  that  other  one, 
BO  suggestive  in  its  anthropomorphism,  "  The  Lord  said 
unto  my  Lord,  sit  thou  at  my  right  hand,  until  I  make  thine 
enemies  thy  footstool,"  imply,  what  the  Assyrian  sculptures 
fully  bear  out,  that  it  was  the  practice  of  the  ancient  god- 
kings  of  the  East  to  trample  upon  the  conquered.  And 
when  we  bear  in  mind  that  there  are  existing  savages 
who  signify  submission  by  placing  the  neck  under  the  foot 
of  the  person  submitted  to,  it  becomes  obvious  that  all 
prostration,   especially  when  accompanied  by  kissing  the 


HOW   FORMS   OF   SALUTATION    HAVE   ORIGINATED.        79 

*bot,  expressed  a  willingness  to  be  trodden  ujDon — was  an  at- 
tempt to  mitigate  wrath  by  saying, in  signs,  "Tread  on  me 
if  you  will."  Remembering,  further,  that  kissing  the  foot, 
as  of  the  Pope  and  of  a  saint's  statue,  still  continues  in 
Europe  to  be  a  mark  of  extreme  reverence  ;  that  prostra 
tion  to  feudal  lords  was  once  general ;  and  that  its  dis 
appearance  must  have  taken  place,  not  abruptly,  but  by 
gradual  modification  into  something  else  ;  we  have  ground 
for  deriving  from  these  deepest  of  humiliations  all  inclina- 
tions of  respect ;  especially  as  the  transition  is  traceable. 
The  reverence  of  a  Russian  serf,  who  bends  his  head  to 
the  ground,  and  the  salaam  of  the  Hindoo,  are  abridged 
prostrations ;  a  bow  is  a  short  salaam ;  a  nod  is  a  short 
bow. 

Should  any  hesitate  to  admit  this  conclusion,  then  per- 
haps, on  being  reminded  that  the  lowest  of  these  obeisances 
are  common  where  the  submission  is  most  abject;  that 
among  ourselves  the  profundity  of  the  bow  marks  the 
amount  of  respect ;  and  lastly,  that  the  bow  is  even  now 
used  devotionally  in  our  churches — ^by  Catholics  to  their 
altars,  and  by  Protestants  at  the  name  of  Christ — they  will 
see  sufficient  evidence  for  thinking  that  this  salutation  also 
was  originally  worship. 

The  same  may  be  said,  too,  of  the  curtsy,  or  courtesy, 
as  it  is  otherwise  written.  Its  derivation  from  courtoisie, 
courteousness,  that  is,  behaviour  like  that  at  court,  at  once 
shows  that  it  was  primarily  the  reverence  paid  to  a  mon- 
arch. And  if  we  call  to  mind  that  falling  upon  the  knees, 
or  upon  one  knee,  has  been  a  common  obeisance  of  subjects 
to  rulers ;  that  in  ancient  manuscripts  and  tapestries,  ser- 
vants are  depicted  as  assuming  this  attitude  while  oifering 
the  dishes  to  their  masters  at  table  ;  and  that  this  same  at- 
titude is  assumed  towards  our  own  queen  at  every  presen- 
tation ;  we  may  infer,  what  the  character  of  the  curtsy 
itself  suggests,  that  it  is  an  abridged  act  of  kneeling.     As 


80  MANNEES   AOT:    iTASHION. 

the  word  has  been  contracted  from  courtoisie  into  curtsy, 
so  the  motion  has  been  contracted  from  a  placing  of  the 
knee  on  the  floor,  to  a  lowering  of  the  knee  towards  the 
floor.  Moreover,  when  we  compare  the  curtsy  of  a  lady 
with  the  awkward  one  a  peasant  girl  makes,  which,  if  con- 
tinued, would  bring  her  down  on  both  knees,  we  may 
see  in  this  last  a  remnant  of  that  greater  reverence  re- 
quired of  serfs.  And  when,  from  considering  that  simple 
kneeling  of  the  West,  still  represented  by  the  curtsy,  we 
pass  Eastward,  and  note  the  attitude  of  the  Mahomedan 
worshipper,  who  not  only  kneels  but  bows  his  head  to  the 
ground,  we  may  infer  that  the  curtsy  also,  is  an  evanescent 
form  of  the  aboriginal  prostration. 

In  further  evidence  of  this  it  may  be  remarked,  that 
there  has  but  recently  disappeared  from  the  salutations  of 
men,  an  action  having  the  same  proximate  derivation  with 
the  curtsy.  That  backward  sweep  of  the  foot  with  which 
the  conventional  stage-sailor  accompanies  his  bow — a  move- 
ment which  prevailed  generally  in  past  generations,  when 
"  a  bow  and  a  scrape  "  went  together,  and  which,  within 
the  memory  of  living  persons,  was  made  by  boys  to  their 
schoolmaster  with  the  efiect  of  wearing  a  hole  in  the  floor 
— ^is  pretty  clearly  a  preliminary  to  going  on  one  knee.  A 
motion  so  ungainly  could  never  have  been  intentionally  in- 
troduced ;  even  if  the  artificial  introduction  of  obeisances 
were  possible.  Hence  we  must  regard  it  as  the  remnant  of 
something  antecedent :  and  that  this  something  antecedent 
was  humiliating  may  be  inferred  from  the  phrase,  "  scraping 
an  acquaintance ;  "  which,  being  used  to  denote  the  gaining 
of  favour  by  obsequiousness,  implies  that  the  scrape  was 
considered  a  mark  of  servility — that  is,  of  serf-Witj. 

Consider,  again,  the  uncovering  of  the  head.  Almost 
everywhere  this  has  been  a  sign  of  reverence,  alike  in  tem- 
ples and  before  potentates ;  and  it  yet  preserves  among  us 
some  of  its  original  meaning.     Whether  it  rains,  hails,  oj 


OEIGIN    OF    CEREMONIAL   ATTITUDES.  81 

shines,  you  must  keep  your  head  bare  while  speaking  to  the 
monarch  ;  and  on  no  plea  may  you  remain  covered  in  a 
place  of  worship.  As  usual,  however,  this  ceremony,  at 
first  a  submission  to  gods  and  kings,  has  become  in  process 
of  time  a  common  civility.  Once  an  acknowledgment  of 
another's  unlimited  supremacy,  the  removal  of  the  hat  is 
now  a  salute  accorded  to  very  ordinary  persons,  and  that 
uncovering,  originally  reserved  for  entrance  into  *'  the  house 
of  God,"  good  manners  now  dictates  on  entrance  into  the 
house  of  a  common  labourer. 

Standing,  too,  as  a  mark  of  respect,  has  undergone  like 
extensions  in  its  application.  Shown,  by  the  practice  in 
our  churches,  to  be  intermediate  between  the  humiliation 
signified  by  kneeling  and  the  self-respect  which  sitting  im- 
j^lies,  and  used  at  courtsasaformof  homage  when  more  active 
demonstrations  of  it  have  been  made,  this  posture  is  now  em- 
ployed in  daily  life  to  show  consideration ;  as  seen  alike  in 
the  attitude  ot  a  servant  before  a  master,  and  in  that  rising 
which  politeness  presm'ibes  on  the  entrance  of  a  visitor. 

Many  other  threads  of  evidence  might  have  been  woven 
into  our  argument.  As,  for  example,  the  significant  fact, 
that  if  we  trace  back  our  still  existing  law  of  primogeni- 
ture— if  we  consider  it  as  displayed  by  Scottish  clans,  in 
which  not  only  ownership  but  government  devolved  from 
the  beginning  on  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest — ^if  we  look 
further  back,  and  observe  that  the  old  titles  of  lordship, 
Siigno)\  Seigneur^  Se?inor,  Sire,  Sieiir,  all  originally  mean, 
senior,  or  elder — if  we  go  Eastward,  and  find  that  Sheick 
has  alike  derivation,  and  that  the  Oriental  names  for  priests, 
as  Pir,  for  instance,  are  literally  interpreted  old  man — if 
we  note  in  Hebrew  records  how  primeval  is  the  ascribed 
superiority  of  the  first-born,  how  great  the  authority  of 
elders,  and  how  sacred  the  memory  of  patriarchs — and  if, 
then,  we  remember  that  among  divine  titles  are  "  Ancient 
of  Days,"  and  "  Father  of  Gods  and  men  ;  " — we  see  how 
4* 


82  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

completely  these  facts  harmonize  with  the  hyjDothesis,  that 
the  aboriginal  god  is  the  first  man  sufiiciently  great  to  be- 
come a  tradition,  the  earliest  whose  power  and  deeds  made 
him  remembered  ;  that  hence  antiquity  unavoidably  became 
associated  with  superiority,  and  age  with  nearness  in  blood 
to  "  the  powerful  one  ;  "  that  so  there  naturally  arose  that 
domination  of  the  eldest  which  characterizes  all  history, 
and  that  theory  of  human  degeneracy  which  even  yet  sur- 
vives. 

We  might  further  dwell  on  the  facts,  that  Lord  signi- 
fies high-born,  or,  as  the  same  root  gives  a  word  meaning 
heaven,  possibly  heaven-born  ;  that,  before  it  became  com- 
mon, 8ir  or  S>ire^  as  well  as  Father^  was  the  distinction  of 
a  priest ;  that  worship^  originally  worth-ship — a  term  of 
respect  that  has  been  used  commonly,  as  well  as  to  magis- 
trates— is  also  our  term  for  the  act  of  attributing  greatness 
or  worth  to  the  Deity ;  so  that  to  ascribe  worth-ship  to  a 
man  is  to  worship  him.  We  might  make  much  of  the  evi- 
dence that  all  early  governments  are  more  or  less  distinct- 
ly theocratic  ;  and  that  among  ancient  Eastern  nations  even 
the  commonest  forms  and  customs  appear  to  have  been  in- 
fluenced by  religion.  We  might  enforce  our  argument  re- 
specting the  derivation  of  ceremonies,  by  tracing  out  the 
aboriginal  obeisance  made  by  putting  dust  on  the  head, 
which  probably  symbolizes  putting  the  head  in  the  dust : 
by  afEHating  the  practice  prevailing  among  certain  tribes, 
of  doing  another  honour  by  presenting  him  with  a  portion 
of  hair  torn  from  the  head — an  act  which  seems  tantamount 
to  saying,  "  I  am  your  slave  ;  "  by  investigating  the  Oriental 
custom  of  giving  to  a  visitor  any  object  he  speaks  of  ad- 
miringly, which  is  pretty  clearly  a  carrying  out  the  compli- 
ment, "  All  I  have  is  yours." 

Without  enlarging,  however,  on  these  and  many  minor 
facts,  we  venture  to  think  that  tlie  evidence  already  assign- 
ed is  sufficient  to  justify  our  position.     Had  the  proofs  been 


THREEFOLD  BRANCHING  OF  PRmiTIVE  GOVERNMENT.     83 

few  or  of  one  kind,  little  faith  could  have  been  placed  in 
the  inference.  But  numerous  as  they  are,  alike  in  the  case 
of  titles,  in  that  of  complimentary  phrases,  and  in  that  of 
salutes — similar  and  simultaneous,  too,  as  the  process  of  de-- 
preciation  has  been  in  all  of  these  ;  the  evidences  become 
strong  by  mutual  confirmation.  And  when  we  recollect, 
also,  that  not  only  have  the  results  of  this  process  been  vis- 
ible in  various  nations  and  in  all  times,  but  that  they  are 
occurring  among  ourselves  at  the  present  moment,  and  that 
the  causes  assigned  for  previous  depreciations  may  be  seen 
daily  working  out  other  ones — when  we  recollect  this,  it 
becomes  scarcely  possible  to  doubt  that  the  process  has 
been  as  alleged  ;  and  that  our  ordinary  words,  acts,  and 
phrases  of  civility  were  originally  acknowledgments  of  sub- 
mission to  another's  omnipotence. 

Thus  the  general  doctrine,  that  all  kinds  of  government 
exercised  over  men  were  at  first  one  government — that  the 
political,  the  religious,  and  the  ceremonial  forms  of  control 
are  divergent  branches  of  a  general  and  once  indivisible 
control — begins  to  look  tenable.  When,  with  the  above 
facts  fresh  in  mind,  we  read  primitive  records,  and  find  that 
"  there  were  giants  in  those  days  " — when  we  remember 
that  in  Eastern  traditions  Nimrod,  among  others,  figures 
in  all  the  characters  of  giant,  king,  and  divinity — when  we 
turn  to  the  sculptures  exhumed  by  Mr.  Layard,  and  con- 
templating in  them  the  effigies  of  kings  driving  over 
enemies,  trampling  on  prisoners,  and  adored  by  prostrate 
slaves,  then  observe  how  their  actions  correspond  to  the 
primitive  names  for  the  divinity,  "  the  strong,"  "the 
destroyer,"  "  the  powerful  one  " — when  we  find  that  the 
earliest  temples  were  also  the  residences  of  the  kings — and 
when,  lastly,  we  discover  that  among  races  of  men  still  liv- 
ing, there  are  current  superstitions  analogous  to  those  which 
old  records  and  old  buildings  indicate ;  we  begin  to  realize 
«he  probability  of  the  hypothesis  that  has  been  set  forth. 


8i  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

Going  back,  in  imagination,  to  the  remote  era  when 
men's  theories  of  things  were  yet  unformed ;  and  conceiv- 
ing to  ourselves  the  conquering  chief  as  dimly  figured  in 
ancient  myths,  and  poems,  and  ruins ;  we  may  see  that  all 
rules  of  conduct  whatever  spring  from  his  will.  Alike 
legislator  and  judge,  all  quarrels  among  his  subjects  are 
decided  by  him ;  and  his  words  become  the  Law.  Awe  of 
him  is  the  incipient  Religion  ;  and  his  maxims  furnish  its 
first  precepts.  Submission  is  made  to  him  in  the  forma 
he  prescribes ;  and  these  give  birth  to  Manners.  From 
the  first,  time  developes  political  allegiance  and  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice ;  from  the  second,  the  worship 
of  a  being  w^hose  ^personality  becomes  ever  more  vague, 
and  the  inculcation  of  precepts  ever  more  abstract ; 
from  the  third,  forms  of  honour  and  the  rules  of  eti- 
quette. 

In  conformity  with  the  law  of  evolution  of  all  organ- 
ized bodies,  that  general  functions  are  gradually  separated 
into  the  special  functions  constituting  them,  there  have 
grown  up  in  the  social  organism  for  the  better  performance 
of  the  governmental  ofilce,  an  apjoaratus  of  law-courts, 
judges,  and  barristers  ;  a  national  church,  with  its  bishops 
and  priests ;  and  a  system  of  casle,  titles,  and  ceremonies, 
administered  by  society  at  large.  By  the  first,  overt 
aggressions  are  cognized  and  punished ;  by  the  second, 
the  disposition  to  commit  such  aggressions  is  in  some 
degree  checked ;  by  the  third,  those  minor  breaches  of 
good  conduct,  which  the  others  do  not  notice,  are  de- 
nounced and  chastised.  Law  and  Religion  control  be- 
haviour in  its  essentials  :  Manners  control  it  in  its  details. 
For  regulating  those  daily  actions  which  are  too  nu- 
merous and  too  unimportant  to  be  ofiicially  directed, 
there  comes  into  play  this  subtler  set  of  restraints.  And 
when  we  consider  what  these  restraints  are — when  we 
analyze  the   words,  and  phrases,  and   salutes   employed 


GOVERNMENT  KEQUIEED  BY  THE  ABORIGINAL  MAN.      85 

we  see  that  in  origin  as  in  effect,  the  system  is  a  setting 
up  of  temporary  governments  between  all  men  who  come 
in  contact,  for  the  purpose  of  better  managing  the  inter- 
course between  them. 

From  the  proposition,  that  these  several  kinds  of  gov- 
ernment are  essentially  one,  both  in  genesis  and  function, 
may  be  deduced  several  important  corollaries,  directly 
bearing  on  our  special  topic. 

Let  us  first  notice,  that  there  is  not  only  a  common 
origin  and  office  for  all  forms  of  rule,  but  a  common  neces- 
sity for  them.  The  aboriginal  man,  coming  fresh 
from  the  killing  of  bears  and  from  lying  in  ambush  for 
his  enemy,  has,  by  the  necessities  of  his  condition,  a  nature 
requiring  to  be  curbed  in  its  every  impulse.  Alike  in  war 
and  in  the  chase,  his  daily  discipline  has  been  that  of 
sacrificing  other  creatures  to  his  own  needs  and  passions. 
His  character,  bequeathed  to  him  by  ancestors  who  led 
similar  lives,  is  moulded  by  this  discipline — is  fitted  to  this 
existence.  The  unlimited  selfishness,  the  love  of  inflicting 
pain,  the  bloodthirstiness,  thus  kept  active,  he  brings  with 
him  into  the  social  state.  These  dispositions  put  him  in 
constant  danger  of  conflict  with  his  equally  savage  neigh- 
bour. In  small  things  as  in  great,  in  words  as  in  deeds, 
he  is  aggressive ;  and  is  hourly  liable  to  the  aggressions 
of  others  like  natiired.  Only,  therefore,  by  the  most 
rigorous  control  exercised  over  all  actions,  can  the  primi- 
tive unions  of  men  be  maintained.  There  must  be  a 
ruler  strong,  remorseless,  and  of  indomitable  will ;  there 
must  be  a  creed  terrible  in  its  threats  to  the  disobedi- 
ent ;  and  there  must  be  the  most  servile  submission  of 
all  inferiors  to  superiors.  The  law  must  be  cruel ;  the 
religion  must  be  stern  ;  the  ceremonies  must  be  strict. 

The  co-ordinate  necessity  for  these  several  kinds  of  re- 
itraint  might  be  largely  illustrated  from  history  were  there 


86  MANNERS    AND   FASHION. 

space.  Suffice  it  to  point  out,  that  where  the  civil  power 
has  been  weak,  the  multipHcation  of  thieves,  assassins,  and 
banditti,  has  indicated  the  approach  of  social  dissolution ; 
that  when,  from  the  corruptness  of  its  ministry,  religion 
has  lost  its  influence,  as  it  did  just  before  the  Flagellants 
appeared,  the  State  has  been  endangered;  and  that  the 
disregard  of  established  social  observances  has  ever  been 
an  accompaniment  of  political  revolutions.  Whoever 
doubts  the  necessity  for  a  government  of  manners  propor- 
tionate in  strength  to  the  co-existing  political  and  religious 
governments,  will  be  convinced  on  calling  to  mind  that 
until  recently  even  elaborate  codes  of  behaviour  failed  to 
keep  gentlemen  from  quarrelling  in  the  streets  and  fighting 
duels  in  taverns  ;  and  on  remembering  further,  that  even  now 
people  exhibit  at  the  doors  of  a  theatre,  where  there  is  no 
ceremonial  law  to  rule  them,  a  deg^ree  of  aojorressiveness 
which  would  produce  confusiou  if  carried  into  social  inter- 
course. 

As  might  be  expected,  we  find  that,  having  a  common 
origin  and  like  general  functions,  these  several  controlling 
agencies  act  during  each  er^  with  similar  degrees  of  vigour. 
Under  the  Chinese  despotism,  stringent  and  multitudinous 
in  its  edicts  and  harsh  m  the  enforcement  of  them,  and 
associated  with  which  tliere  is  an  equally  stern  domestic 
despotism  exercised  by  the  eldest  surviving  male  of  the 
flimily,  there  exists  a,  system  of  observances  alike  compli- 
cated and  rigid.  There  is  a  tribunal  of  ceremonies.  Pre- 
vious to  presentation  at  court,  ambassadors  pass  many  days 
in  practising  the  required  forms.  Social  intercourse  is 
cumbered  by  endless  compliments  and  obeisances.  Class 
distinctions  are  strongly  marked  by  badges.  The  chief 
regret  on  losing  an  only  son  is,  that  there  will  be  no  one  to 
perform  the  sepulchral  rites.  And  if  there  wants  a  definite 
measure  of  the  respect  paid  to  social  ordinances,  we  have 
H  'P.  *.he  torture  to  which  ladies  submit  in  having  their  feet 


CEREMONIAL    CONTROL   IN    THE   MIDDLE   AGES.  87 

crushed.  In  India,  and  indeed  throughout  the  East,  there 
exists  a  like  connection  between  the  pitiless  tyranny  of 
rulers,  the  dread  terrors  of  immemorial  creeds,  and  the 
rigid  restraint  of  unchangeable  customs :  the  caste  regula- 
tions continue  still  unalterable  ;  the  fashions  of  clothes  and 
furniture  have  remained  the  same  for  ages  ;  suttees  are  so 
ancient  as  to  be  mentioned  by  Strabo  and  Diodorus  Siculus; 
justice  is  still  administered  at  the  palace-gates  as  of  old ; 
in  short,  "  every  usage  is  a  precept  of  religion  and  a  maxim 
of  jurisprudence." 

A  similar  relationship  of  phenomena  was  exhibited  in 
Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages.  While  all  its  govern- 
ments were  autocratic,  while  feudalism  held  sway,  while 
the  Church  was  unshorn  of  its  power,  while  the  criminal 
code  was  full  of  horrors  and  the  hell  of  the  popular  creed 
full  of  terrors,  the  rules  of  behaviour  were  both  more 
numerous  and  more  carefully  conformed  to  than  now.  Dif- 
ferences of  dress  marked  divisions  of  rank.  Men  were 
limited  by  law  to  a  certain  width  of  shoe-toes  ;  and  no  one 
below  a  specified  degree  might  wear  a  cloak  less  than  so 
many  inches  long.  The  symbols  on  banners  and  shields 
were  carefully  attended  to.  Heraldry  was  an  important 
branch  of  knowledge.  Precedence  was  strictly  insisted  on. 
And  those  various  salutes  of  which  we  now  use  the  abridg- 
ments were  gone  through  in  full.  Even  during  our  own 
last  century,  with  its  corrupt  House  of  Commons  and  little- 
curbed  monarchs,  we  may  mark  a  correspondence  of  social 
formalities.  Gentlemen  were  still  distinguished  from  lower 
classes  by  dress  ;  people  sacrificed  themselves  to  inconven- 
ient requirements — as  powder,  hooped  petticoats,  and  tow- 
ering head-dresses ;  and  children  addressed  their  parents 
as  Sir  and  Madam. 

A  further  corollary  naturally  following  this  last,  and 
almost,  indeed,  forming  part  of  it,  is,  that  these  several 
kinds  of  government  decrease  in  stringency  at  the  same 


S8  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

rate.  Simultaneously  with  the  decline  in  the  influence  of 
priesthoods,  and  in  the  fear  of  eternal  torments — simulta- 
neously with  the  mitigation  of  political  tyranny,  the  growth 
of  popular  power,  and  the  amelioration  of  criminal  codes ; 
has  taken  place  *vhat  diminution  of  formalities  and  that 
fading  of  distinctive  marks,  now  so  observable.  Looking 
at  home,  we  may  note  that  there  is  less  attention  to  prece- 
dence than  there  used  to  be.  No  one  in  our  day  ends  an 
interview  with  the  phrase  "  your  humble  servant."  The 
employment  of  the  word  /S'^V,  once  general  in  social  inter- 
course, is  at  i^resent  considered  bad  breeding  ;  and  on  the 
occasions  calling  for  them,  it  is  held  vulgar  to  .use  the 
words  "  Your  Majesty,"  or  "  Your  Royal  Highness,"  more 
than  once  in  a  conversation.  People  no  longer  formally  drink 
each  other's  healths ;  and  even  the  taking  wine  Avith  each 
other  at  dinner  has  ceased  to  be  fashionable.  The  taking- 
off  of  hats  between  gentlemen  has  been  gradually  falling 
into  disuse.  Even  when  the  hat  is  removed,  it  is  no  longer 
swept  out  at  arm's  length,  but  is  simply  lifted.  Hence  the 
remark  made  upon  us  by  foreigners,  that  we  take  off  our 
hats  less  than  any  other  nation  in  Europe — a  remark  that 
should  be  coupled  with  the  other,  that  we  are  the  freest 
nation  in  Europe. 

As  already  implied,  this  association  of  facts  is  not  acci- 
dental. These  titles  of  address  and  modes  of  salutation, 
bearing  about  them,  as  they  all  do,  something  of  that  ser- 
vility which  marks  their  origin,  become  distasteful  in  pro- 
portion as  men  become  more  independent  themselves,  and 
sympathise  more  with  the  independence  of  others.  The 
feeling  w^hich  makes  the  modern  gentleman  tell  the  labourer 
standing  bareheaded  before  him  to  put  on  his  hat — the 
feeling  which  gives  us  a  dislike  to  those  who  cringe  and 
fawn — the  feeling  which  makes  us  alike  assert  our  own  dig- 
nity and  respect  that  of  others — the  feeling  which  thus 
leads  us  more  and  more  to  discountenance  all  forms  and 


DECLINE   OF   CEREMONIAL   INFLUENCE.  89 

names  which  confess  inferiority  and  submission  ;  is  the  sama 
feeling  which  resists  despotic  power  and  inaugurates  popu- 
lar government,  denies  the  authority  of  the  Church  and 
establishes  the  right  of  private  judgment. 

A  fourth  fact,  akin  to  the  foregoing,  is,  that  these  sev« 
eral  kinds  of  government  not  only  decline  together,  but 
corrupt  together.  By  the  same  process  that  a  Court  of 
Chancery  becomes  a  place  not  for  the  administration  of 
justice,  but  for  the  withholding  of  it — by  the  same  process 
that  a  national  church,  from  being  an  agency  for  moral  con- 
trol, comes  to  be  merely  a  thing  of  formulas  and  tithes  and 
bishoprics — ^by  this  same  process  do  titles  and  ceremonies 
that  once  had  a  meaning  and  a  power  become  empty  forijis. 
Coats  of  arms  which  served  to  distinguish  men  in  bat- 
tle, now  figure  on  the  carriage  panels  of  retired  grocers. 
Once  a  badge  of  high  military  rank,  the  shoulder-knot  has 
become,  on  the  modern  footman,  a  mark  of  servitude. 
The  name  Banneret,  which  once  marked  a  partially-created 
Baron — a  Baron  who  had  passed  his  military  "  little  go  " — 
is  now,  under  the  modification  of  Baronet,  applicable  to 
any  one  favoured  by  wealth  or  interest  or  party  feeling. 
Knighthood  has  so  far  ceased  to  be  an  honour,  that  men 
now  honour  themselves  by  declining  it.  The  military  dig- 
nity JEscuyer  has,  in  the  modern  Esquire,  become  a  wholly 
unmilitary  affix.  Not  only  do  titles,  and  phrases,  and  sa- 
lutes cease  to  fulfil  their  original  functions,  but  the  whole 
apparatus  of  social  forms  tends  to  become  useless  for  its 
original  purpose — the  facilitation  of  social  intercourse. 
Those  most  learned  in  ceremonies,  and  most  precise  in  the 
observance  of  them,  are  not  always  the  best  behaved ;  as 
those  deepest  read  in  creeds  and  scriptures  are  not  there- 
fore the  most  religious ;  nor  those  who  have  the  clearest 
notions  of  legality  and  illegality,  the  most  honest.  Just 
as  lawyers  are  of  all  men  the  least  noted  for  probity  ;  aa 
cathedral  towns  have  a  lower  moral  charactei    than  most 


90  MANNERS    AND   FASHION. 

others ;  so,  if  Swift  is  to  .be  believed,  courtiers  are  "  tha 
most  insignificant  race  of  people  that  the  island  can  afford, 
and  with  the  smallest  tincture  of  good  manners." 

But  perhaps  it  is  in  that  class  of  social  observances 
comprehended  under  the  term  Fashion,  which  we  must 
here  discuss  parenthetically,  that  this  process  of  corruption 
is  seen  with  the  greatest  distinctness.  As  contrasted  with 
Manners,  which  dictate  our  minor  acts  in  relation  to  other 
persons.  Fashion  dictates  our  minor  acts  in  relation  to  our- 
selves. While  the  one  prescribes  that  part  of  our  deport- 
ment which  directly  affects  our  neighbours  ;  the  other  pre- 
scribes that  part  of  our  deportment  which  is  immarily  j)er- 
sonal,  and  in  which  our  neighbours  are  concerned  only  as 
spectators.  Thus  distinguished  as  they  are,  however,  the 
two  have  a  common  source.  For  while,  as  we  have  shown, 
Manners  originate  by  imitation  of  f  ae  behaviour  pursued 
towards  the  great ;  Fashion  originates  by  imitation  of  the 
behaviour  of  the  great.  While  the  one  has  its  derivation 
in  the  titles,  phrases,  and  salutes  used  to  those  in  power ; 
the  other  is  derived  from  the  habits  and  appearances  exhib* 
ited  hy  those  in  power. 

The  Carrib  mother  who  squeezes  her  child's  head  into 
a  shape  like  that  of  the  chief;  the  young  savage  who  makes 
marks  on  himself  similar  to  the  scars  carried  by  the  war- 
riors of  his  tribe  (which  is  probably  the  origin  of  tattoo- 
ing) ;  the  Highlander  who  adopts  the  plaid  worn  by  the 
head  of  his  clan  ;  the  courtiers  who  affect  greyness,  or  limp, 
or  cover  their  necks,  in  imitation  of  their  king  ;  and  the 
people  who  ape  the  courtiers  ;  are  alike  acting  under  a  kind 
of  government  connate  with  that  of  Manners,  and,  like  it 
too,  primarily  beneficiaL  For  notwithstanding  the  num- 
berless absurdities  into  which  this  copyism  has  led  the  j)eo- 
ple,  from  nose-rings  to  ear-rings,  from  painted  faces  to 
beauty-spots,  from  shaven  heads  to  powdered  wigs,  from 
filed  teeth  and  stained  nails  to  bell-girdles,  peaked  shoes. 


CORRUPTION    OF   THE   CEREMONIAL    RULE.  91 

and  breeches  stuffed  with  bran, — it  must  yet  be  concluded, 
that  as  the  strong  men,  the  successful  men,  the  men  of  will, 
intelUgence,  and  originahty,  who  have  got  to  the  top,  are, 
on  the  average,  more  likely  to  show  judgment  in  their  hab- 
its and  tastes  than  the  mass,  the  imitation  of  such  is  advan- 
tageous. 

By  and  by,  however,  Fashion,  corrupting  like  these 
other  forms  of  rule,  almost  wholly  ceases  to  be  an  imitation 
of  the  best,  and  becomes  an  imitation  of  quite  other  than 
the  best.  As  those  who  take  orders  are  not  those  having 
a  special  fitness  for  the  priestly  office,  but  those  who  see 
their  way  to  a  living  by  it ;  as  legislators  and  public  func- 
tionaries do  not  become  such  by  virtue  of  their  political 
insight  and  power  to  rule,  but  by  virtue  of  birth,  acreage, 
and  class  mfluence ;  so,  the  self-elected  clique  who  set  the 
fashion,  gain  this  prerogative,  not  by  their  force  of  nature, 
their  intellect,  their  higher  worth  or  better  taste,  but  gain 
it  solely  by  their  unchecked  assumption.  Among  the  ini- 
tiated are  to  be  found  neither  the  noblest  in  rank,  the 
chief  in  power,  the  best  cultured,  the  most  refined,  nor 
those  of  greatest  genius,  wit,  or  beauty ;  and  their  re- 
unions, so  far  from  being  superior  to  others,  are  noted 
for  their  inanity.  Yet,  by  the  example  of  these  sham 
great,  and  not  by  that  of  the  truly  great,  does  society  at 
large  now  regulate  its  goings  and  comings,  its  hours,  its 
dress,  its  small  usages.  As  a-  natural  consequence,  these 
have  generally  little  or  none  of  that  suitableness  which  the 
theory  of  fashion  implies  they  should  have.  But  instead 
of  a  continual  progress  towards  greater  elegance  and  con- 
venience, which  might  be  expected  to  occur  did  people 
copy  the  ways  of  the  really  best,  or  follow  their  own  ideas 
^f  propriety,  we  have  a  reign  of  mere  whim,  of  unreason, 
of  change  for  the  sake  of  change,  of  wanton  oscillations 
from  either  extreme  to  the  other — a  reign  of  usages  with- 
out meaning,  times  without  fitness,  dress  without  taste 


02  MANNERS    AND   FASHION. 

And  thus  life  a  la  9node,  instead  of  being  life  conducted  in 
the  most  rational  manner,  is  life  regulated  by  spendthrifts 
and  idlers,  milliners  and  tailors,  dandies  and  silly  women. 

To  these  several  corollaries — that  the  various  orders  of 
control  exercised  over  men  have  a  common  origin  and  a 
common  function,  are  called  out  by  co-ordinate  necessitiea 
and  co-exist  in  like  stringency,  decline  together  and  corrupt 
together — it  now  only  remains  to  add  that  they  become  need- 
less together.  Consequent  as  all  kinds  of  government  are 
upon  the  unfitness  of  the  aboriginal  man  for  social  life ;  and 
diminishing  in  coerciveness  as  they  all  do  in  projDortion  as  this 
unfitness  diminishes ;  they  must  one  and  all  come  to  an  end  as 
humanity  acquires  complete  adaptation  to  its  new  conditions. 
That  discipline  of  circumstances  which  has  already  wrought 
out  such  great  changes  in  us,  must  go  on  eventually  to 
work  out  yet  greater  ones.  That  daily  curbing  of  the  low- 
er nature  and  culture  of  the  higher,  which  out  of  cannibals 
and  devil  worshippers  has  evolved  philanthropists,  lovers 
of  peace,  and  haters  of  superstition,  cannot  fail  to  evolve  out 
of  these,  men  as  much  superior  to  them  as  they  are  to  their 
progenitors.  The  causes  that  have  produced  past  modifica- 
tions are  still  in  action ;  must  continue  in  action  as  long  as 
there  exists  any  incongruity  between  man's  desires  and  the 
requirements  of  the  social  state  ;  and  must  eventually  make 
him  organically  fit  for  the  social  state.  As  it  is  now  need- 
less to  forbid  man-eating  and  Fetishism,  so  will  it  ultimate- 
ly become  needless  to  forbid  murder,  theft,  and  the  minor 
offences  of  our  criminal  code.  When  human  nature  has 
grown  into  conformity  with  the  moral  law,  there  will  need 
no  judges  and  statute-books;  when  it  spontaneously  takes 
the  right  course  in  all  things,  as  in  some  things  it  does  al- 
ready, prospects  of  future  reward  or  punishment  will  not 
be  wanted  as  incentives  ;  and  when  fit  behaviour  has  become 
instinctive,  there  will  need  no  code  of  ceremonies  to  say 
how  behaviour  shall  be  regulated. 


KEVOLT   AGAINST   CEREMONIAL   RULE.  93 

Thus,  then,  may  be  recognised  the  meaning,  the  natural 
ness,  the  necessity  of  those  various  eccentricities  of  reform 
ers  which  we  set  out  by  describing.  They  are  not  acci- 
dental ;  they  are  not  mere  personal  caprices,  as  people  are 
apt  to  suppose.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  inevitable  re- 
sults of  the  law  of  relationship  above  illustrated.  That 
community  of  genesis,  function,  and  decay  which  all  forms 
of  restraint  exhibit,  is  simply  the  obverse  of  the  fact  at 
first  pointed  out,  that  they  have  in  two  sentiments  of  hu- 
man nature  a  common  preserver  and  a  common  destroyer. 
Awe  of  power  originates  and  cherishes  them  all :  love  of 
freedom  undermines  and  periodically  weakens  them  all. 
The  one  defends  despotism  and  asserts  the  supremacy  of 
laws,  adheres  to  old  creeds  and  supports  ecclesiastical  au- 
thority, pays  respect  to  titles  and  conserves  forms ;  the 
other,  putting  rectitude  above  legality,  achieves  periodical 
instalments  of  political  liberty,  inaugurates  Protestantism 
and  works  out  its  consequences,  ignores  the  senseless  dic- 
tates of  Fashion  and  emancipates  men  from  dead  customs. 

To  the  true  reformer  no  institution  is  sacred,  no  belief 
above  criticism.  Everything  shall  conform  itself  to  equity 
and  reason  ;  nothing  shall  be  saved  by  its  prestige.  Con- 
ceding to  each  man  liberty  to  pursue  his  own  ends  and  sat- 
isfy his  own  tastes,  he  demands  for  himself  like  liberty  ;  and 
consents  to  no  restrictions  on  this,  save  those  which  other 
men's  equal  claims  involve.  No  matter  whether  it  be  an 
ordinance  of  one  man,  or  an  ordinance  of  all  men,  if  it 
trenches  on  his  legitimate  sphere  of  action,  he  denies  its 
validity.  The  tyranny  that  would  impose  on  him  a  partic- 
ular style  of  dress  and  a  set  mode  of  behaviour,  he  resists 
equally  with  the  tyranny  that  would  limit  his  buyings  and 
sellings,  or  dictate  his  creed.  Whether  the  regulation  be 
formally  made  by  a  legislature,  or  informally  made  by  so- 
ciety at  large — whether  the  penalty  for  disobedience  be  im- 
prisonment, or  frowns  and  social  ostracism,  he  sees  to  be  a 


94  MANNEES   AKD   FASHION. 

question  of  no  moment.  He  will  utter  his  belief  notwith 
standing  the  threatened  punishment ;  he  will  break  conven- 
tions spite  of  the  petty  persecutions  that  will  be  visited  on 
him.  Show  him  that  his  actions  are  inimical  to  his  fellow- 
men,  and  he  will  pause.  Prove  that  he  is  disregardiug 
their  legitimate  claims — that  he  is  doing  what  in  the  nature 
of  things  must  produce  unhappiness ;  and  he  will  alter  his 
course.  But  until  you  do  this — until  you  demonstrate  that 
his  proceedings  are  essentially  inconvenient  or  inelegant, 
essentially  irrational,  unjust,  or  ungenerous,  he  will  perse- 
vere. 

Some,  indeed,  argue  that  his  conduct  is  unjust  and  un- 
generous. They  say  that  he  has  no  right  to  annoy  other 
people  by  his  whims  ;  that  the  gentleman  to  whom  his  let- 
ter comes  with  no  "  Esq."  appended  to  the  address,  and  the 
lady  whose  evening  party  he  enters  with  gloveless  hands, 
are  vexed  at  what  they  consider  his  want  of  respect,  or  want 
of  breeding ;  that  thus  his  eccentricities  cannot  be  indulged 
save  at  the  expense  of  his  neighbours'  feelings ;  and  that 
hence  his  nonconformity  is  in  plain  terms  selfishness. 

He  answers  that  this  position,  if  logically  developed, 
would  deprive  men  of  all  liberty  whatever.  Each  must 
conform  all  his  acts  to  the  public  taste,  and  not  his  own. 
The  public  taste  on  every  point  having  been  once  ascer- 
tained, men's  habits  must  thenceforth  remain  for  ever 
fixed  ;  seeing  that  no  man  can  adopt  other  habits  without 
sinning  against  the  public  taste,  and  giving  people  disagree- 
able feelings.  Consequently,  be  it  an  era  of  pig-tails  or  high- 
heeled  shoes,  of  starched  rufi*s  or  trunk-hose,  all  must  con- 
tinue to  wear  pig-tails,  high-heeled  shoes,  starched  rufts,  or 
trunk-hose  to  the  crack  of  doom. 

If  it  be  still  urged  that  he  is  not  justified  in  breaking 
through  others'  forms  that  he  may  establish  his  own,  and 
so  sacrificing  the  wishes  of  many  to  the  Welshes  of  one,  he 
replies  that  all  religious  and  political  changes  might  be 


THE   CONVENTION-BEEAKEk's   VINDICATION.  95 

negatived  on  like  grounds.  He  asks  whether  Luther's 
sayings  and  doings  were  not  extremely  offensive  to  the 
mass  of  his  contemporaries ;  whether  the  resistance  of 
Hampden  was  not  disgusting  to  the  time-servers  around 
him ;  whether  every  reformer  has  not  shocked  men's 
prejudices,  and  given  immense  displeasure  by  the  opinions 
he  uttered.  The  affirmative  answer  he  follows  up  by 
demanding  what  right  the  reformer  has,  then,  to  utter 
these  opinions ;  whether  he  is  not  sacrificing  the  feelings 
of  many  to  the  feelings  of  one :  and  so  proves  that,  to 
be  consistent,  his  antagonists  must  condemn  not  only 
all  nonconformity  in  actions,  but  all  nonconformity  in 
thoughts. 

His  antagonists  rejoin  that  his  position,  too,  may  be 
pushed  to  an  absurdity.  They  argue  that  if  a  man  may 
offend  by  the  disregard  of  some  forms,  he  may  as  legiti- 
mately do  so  by  the  disregard  of  all ;  and  they  inquire — 
Why  should  he  not  go  out  to  dinner  in  a  dirty  shirt,  and 
with  an  unshorn  chin  ?  Why  should  he  not  spit  on  tlie 
drawing-room  carpet,  and  stretch  his  heels  up  to  the  man- 
tel-shelf? 

The  convention-breaker  answers,  that  to  ask  this,  im- 
plies a  confounding  of  two  widely-different  classes  of 
actions — the  actions  that  are  essentially  displeasurable  to 
those  around,  with  the  actions  that  are  but  incidentally 
displeasurable  to  them.  He  whose  skin  is  so  unclean  as  to 
offend  tlie  nostrils  of  his  neighbours,  or  he  who  talks  so 
loudly  as  to  disturb  a  whole  room,  may  be  justly  com- 
plained of,  and  rightly  excluded  by  society  from  its  assem- 
blies. But  he  who  presents  himself  in  a  surtout  in  place 
of  a  dress-coat,  or  in  brown  trousers  instead  of  black,  gives 
offence  not  to  men's  senses,  or  their  innate  tastes,  but 
merely  to  their  prejudices,  their  bigotry  of  convention.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  his  costume  is  less  elegant  or  less 
intrinsically  appropriate   tlian  the  one  prescribed ;   seeing 


96  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

that  a  few  hours  earlier  in  the  day  it  is  admired.  It  is  the 
implied  rebellion,  therefore,  that  annoys.  How  little  the 
cause  of  quarrel  has  to  do  with  the  dress  itself,  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  a  century  ago  black  clothes  would  have  been 
thought  preposterous  for  hours  of  recreation,  and  that 
a  few  years  hence  some  now  forbidden  style  may  be  nearer 
the  requirements  of  Fashion  than  the  present  one.  Thus 
the  reformer  explains  that  it  is  not  against  the  natural 
restraints,  but  against  the  artificial  ones,  that  he  pro- 
tests ;  and  that  manifestly  the  fire  of  sneers  and  angry 
glances  which  he  has  to  bear,  is  poured  upon  him  be- 
cause he  will  not  bow^  down  to  the  idol  which  society  has 
set  up. 

Should  he  be  asked  how  we  are  to  distinguish  between 
conduct  that  is  absolutely  disagreeable  to  others,  and  con- 
duct that  is  relatively  so,  he  answers,  that  they  will  distin- 
guish themselves,  if  men  will  let  them.  Actions  intrin- 
sically repugnant  will  ever  be  frowned  upon,  and  must 
ever  remain  as  exceptional  as  now.  Actions  not  intrin- 
sically repugnant  will  establish  themselves  as  proper.  No 
relaxation  of  customs  ^ill  introduce  the  practice  of  going 
to  a  party  in  muddy  boots,  and  with  unwashed  hands  ;  for 
the  dislike  of  dirt  would  continue  were  Fashion  abohshed 
to-morrow.  That  love  of  approbation  which  now  makes 
people  so  solicitous  to  be  e7i  regie  would  still  exist — would 
still  make  them  careful  of  their  personal  appearance — 
would  still  induce  them  to  seek  admiration  by  making 
themselves  ornamental — would  still  cause  them  to  respect 
the  natural  laws  of  good  behaviour,  as  they  now  do  the 
artificial  ones.  The  change  would  simply  be  from  a  repul- 
sive monotony  to  a  picturesque  variety.  And  if  there  be 
any  regulations  respecting  which  it  is  uncertam  whether 
they  are  based  on  reality  or  on  convention,  experiment 
will  soon  decide,  if  due  scope  be  allowed. 

When  at  length  the  controversy  comes  round,  as  con 


97 

troversies  often  do,  to  the  ^^oiiit  whence  it  started,  and  the 
"  party  of  order"  repeat  their  charge  against  the  rebel, 
that  he  is  sacrificing  the  feehngs  of  others  to  the  gratifica 
tion  of  his  own  wilfuhiess,  he  repUes  once  for  all  that  they 
cheat  themselves  by  mis-statements.  He  accuses  them  of 
being  so  despotic,  that,  not  content  with  being  masters 
over  their  own  ways  and  habits,  they  would  be  masters 
over  his  also ;  and  grumble  because  he  will  not  let  them. 
He  merely  asks  the  same  freedom  which  they  exercise; 
they,  however,  propose  to  regulate  his  course  as  well  as 
their  own — to  cat  and  clip  his  mode  of  life  into  agreement 
with  their  approved  pattern  ;  and  then  charge  him  with 
wilfulness  and  selfishness,  because  he  does  not  quietly 
submit !  He  warns  them  that  he  shall  resist,  never- 
theless ;  and  that  he  shall  do  so,  not  only  for  the  asser- 
tion of  his.  own  independence,  but  for  their  good.  He  tells 
them  that  they  are  slaves,  and  know  it  not ;  that  they 
are  shackled,  and  kiss  their  chains ;  that  they  have  lived 
all  their  days  in  prison,  and  complain  at  the  walls  being 
broken  down.  He  says  he  must  persevere,  however, 
with  a  view  to  his  own  release ;  and  hi  spite  of  their 
present  expostulations,  he  prophesies  that  when  they  have 
recovered  from  the  fright  which  the  prospect  of  free- 
dom produces,  they  will  thank  him  for  aiding  in  their 
emancipation. 

Unamiable  as  seems  this  find-fault  mood,  offensive  as  is 
this  defiant  attitude,  we  must  beware  of  overlooking  the 
truths  enunciated,  in  dislike  of  the  advocacy.  It  is  an  un- 
fortunate hindrance  to  all  innovation,  that  in  virtue  of 
their  very  function,  the  innovators  stand  in  a  position  of 
antagonism ;  and  the  disagreeable  manners,  and  sayings, 
and  doings,  which  this  antagonism  generates,  are  com- 
monly associated  with  the  doctrines  promulgated.  Quite 
forgetting  that  whether  the  thing  attacked  be  good  or 
bad,  the  combative  spirit  is  necessarily  repulsive ;  and  quite 
5 


d8  MANNKRS   AKD   FASHION- 

forgetting  that  the  toleration  of  abuses  seems  amiable 
merely  from  its  passivity  ;  the  mass  of  men  contract  a  bias 
against  advanced  vieAvs,  and  in  favour  of  stationary  ones, 
from  intercourse  with  their  respective  adherents.  "  Con- 
servatism," as  Emerson  says,  "  is  debonnair  and  social ; 
reform  is  individual  and  imj^erious."  And  this  remains 
true,  however  vicious  the  system  conserved,  however 
righteous  the  reform  to  be  effected.  Nay,  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  purists  is  usually  extreme  in  proportion  as 
the  evils  to  be  got  rid  of  are  great.  The  more  urgent 
the  required  change,  the  more  intemperate  is  the  vehe- 
mence of  its  promoters.  Let  no  one,  then,  confound  with 
the  principles  of  this  social  nonconformity  the  acerbity 
and  the  disagreeable  self-assertion  of  those  who  first  dis- 
play it. 

The  most  plausible  objection  raised  against  resistance 
to  conventions,  is  grounded  on  its  impolicy,  considered 
even  from  the  progressist's  point  of  view.  It  is  urged  by 
many  of  the  more  liberal  and  intelligent — usually  those 
who  have  themselves  shown  some  independence  of  be- 
haviour in  earlier  days — that  to  rebel  in  these  small 
matters  is  to  destroy  your  ot\ti  power  of  helping  on 
reform  in  greater  matters.  "  If  you  show  yourself  eccen- 
tric in  manners  or  dress,  the  world,"  they  say,  "  will  not 
listen  to  you.  You  will  be  considered  as  crotchety,  and 
impracticable.  The  opinions  you  express  on  important 
subjects,  which  might  have  been  treated  with  respect  had 
you  conformed  on  minor  points,  will  now  inevitably  be 
put  down  among  your  singularities ;  and  thus,  by  dissent- 
ing in  trifles,  you  disable  yourself  from  spreading  dissent 
in  essentials." 

Only  noting,  as  we  pass,  that  this  is  one  of  those  antici- 
pations which  bring  about  their  own  fulfilment — that  it  is 
because  most  who  disapprove  these  conventions  do  not  show 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  MRS.  GKUNDy's  TYEANNY.     99 

tlieir  disapproval,  that  the  few  who  do  show  it  look  eccen- 
trie — and  that  did  all  act  out  their  convictions,  no  such  in 
ference  as  the  above  would  be  drawn,  and  no  such  evil 
would  result ; — noting  this  as  we  pass,  we  go  on  to  reply 
that  these  social  restraints,  and  forms,  and  requirements, 
are  not  small  evils,  but  among  the  greatest.  Estimate  theii* 
sum  total,  and  we  doubt  whether  they  would  not  exceed 
most  others.  Could  we  add  up  the  trouble,  the  cost,  the 
jealousies,  vexations,  misunderstandings,  the  loss  of  time 
and  the  loss  of  pleasure,  which  these  conventions  entail — 
could  vv^e  clearly  realize  the  extent  to  which  we  are  all  dai- 
ly hampered  by  them,  daily  enslaved  by  them  ;  we  should 
perhaps  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  tyranny  of  Mrs. 
Grundy  is  worse  than  any  other  tyranny  we  suffer  under. 
Let  us  look  at  a  few  of  its  hurtful  results ;  beginning  w^ith 
those  of  minor  importance. 

It  produces  extravagance.  The  desire  to  be  comme  il 
fautj  which  underlies  all  conformities,  whether  of  manners, 
dress,  or  styles  of  entertainment,  is  the  desire  which  makes 
many  a  spendthrift  and  many  a  bankrupt.  To  "  keep  up 
appearances,"  to  have  a  house  in  an  approved  quarter  fur- 
nished in  the  latest  taste,  to  give  exj^ensive  dinners  and 
crowded  soirees^  is  an  ambition  forming  the  natural  outcome 
of  the  conformist  spirit.  It  is  needless  to  enlarge  on  these 
follies  :  they  have  been  satirized  by  host?  of  writers,  and  in 
every  drawing-room.  All  that  here  concerns  us,  is  to  point 
out  that  the  respect  for  social  observances,  which  men  think 
80  praiseworthy,  has  the  same  root  with  this  effort  to  be 
fashionable  in  mode  of  living  ;  and  that,  other  things  equal, 
the  last  cannot  be  diminished  w^ithout  the  first  being  dimin- 
ished also.  If,  now,  we  consider  all  that  this  extravagance 
entails — if  we  count  up  the  robbed  tradesmen,  the  stinted 
governesses,  the  ill-educated  children,  the  fleeced  relatives, 
who  have  to  suffer  from  it — if  we  mark  the  anxiety  and  the 
many  moral  deUnquencies  which   its  perpetrators  involve 


LOO  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

themselves  in  ;  we  shall  see  that  this  regard  for  conventions 
is  not  quite  so  innocent  as  it  looks. 

Again,  it  decreases  the  amount  of  social  intercourse. 
Passing  over  the  reckless,  and  those  who  make  a  great  dis- 
play on  speculation  with  the  occasional  result  of  getting  on 
in  the  world  to  the  exclusion  of  much  better  men,  we  come 
to  the  far  larger  class  who,  being  prudent  and  honest 
enough  not  to  exceed  their  means,  and  yet  having  a  strong 
wish  to  be  "  respectable,"  are  obliged  to  limit  their  enter- 
tainments to  the  smallest  possible  number ;  and  that  each 
of  these  may  be  turned  to  the  greatest  advantage  in  meet- 
ing the  claims  upon  their  hospitality,  are  induced  to  issue 
their  invitations  with  little  or  no  regard  to  the  comfort  or 
mutual  fitness  of  their  guests.  A  few  inconveniently- large 
assemblies,  made  up  of  people  mostly  strange  to  each  other 
or  but  distantly  acquainted,  and  having  scarcely  any  tastes 
in  common,  are  made  to  serve  in  place  of  many  small  par- 
ties of  friends  intimate  enough  to  have  some  bond  of 
thought  and  sympathy.  Thus  the  quantity  of  intercourse 
is  diminished,  and  the  quality  deteriorated.  Because  it  is 
the  custom  to  make  costly  preparations  and  provide  costly 
refreshments ;  and  because  it  entails  both  less  expense  and 
less  trouble  to  do  this  for  many  persons  on  a  few  occasions 
than  for  few  persons  on  many  occasions ;  the  reunions  of 
our  less  wealthy  classes  are  rendered  alike  infrequent  and 
tedious. 

Let  it  be  further  observed,  that  the  existing  formalities 
of  social  intercourse  drive  away  many  who  most  need  its 
refining  influence  :  and  drive  them  into  injurious  habits  and 
associations.  Not  a  few  men,  and  not  the  least  sensible  men 
either,  give  up  in  disgust  this  going  out  to  stately  dinners, 
and  stifi"  evening-parties  ;  and  instead,  seek  society  in  clubs, 
and  cigar-divans,  and  taverns.  "  I  'm  sick  of  this  standing 
about  in  drawing-rooms,  talking  nonsense,  and  trying  to 
look  happy,"  will  answer  one  of  them  when  taxed  with  his 


AN    ESTIMATE   OF   FASHIONABLE    PARTIES.  101 

desertion.  "  Why  should  I  any  longer  waste  time  and 
money,  and  temper  ?  Once  I  was  ready  enough  to  rush 
home  from  the  office  to  dress  ;  I  sported  embroidered  shirts, 
submitted  to  tight  boots,  and  cared  nothing  for  tailors'  and 
haberdashers'  bills.  I  know  better  now.  My  patience  last- 
ed  a  good  while ;  for  though  I  found  each  night  pass  stu^ 
pidly,  I  always  hoped  the  next  would  make  amends.  But 
I'm  undeceived.  Cab-hire  and  kid  gloves  cost  more  than 
any  evening  party  pays  for  ;  or  rather — it  is  worth  the  cost 
of  them  to  avoid  the  j^arty.  No,  no ;  I'll  no  more  of  it. 
Why  should  I  pay  five  shillings  a  time  for  the  privilege  of 
being  bored  ?  " 

If,  now,  we  consider  that  this  very  common  mood  tends 
towards  bUliard-rooms,  towards  long  sittings  over  cigars 
and  brandy-aud-water,  towards  Evans's  and  the  Coal  Hole, 
towards  every  place  where  amusement  may  be  had ;  it  be- 
comes a  question  whether  these  precise  observances  which 
hamper  our  set  meetings,  have  not  to  answer  for  much  of 
the  prevalent  dissoluteness.  Men  must  have  excitements 
of  some  kind  or  other ;  and  if  debarred  from  higher  ones 
will  fall  back  upon  lower.  It  is  not  that  those  who  thus 
take  to  irregular  habits  are  essentially  those  of  low  tastes. 
Often  it  is  quite  the  reverse.  Among  half  a  dozen  intimate 
friends,  abandoning  formalities  and  sitting  at  ease  round 
the  fire,  none  will  enter  with  greater  enjoyment  into  the 
Highest  kind  of  social  intercourse — the  genuine  communion 
of  thought  and  feeling ;  and  if  the  circle  includes  women  of 
intelligence  and  refinement,  so  much  the  greater  is  theii 
pleasure.  It  is  because  they  will  no  longer  be  choked  with 
the  mere  dry  husks  of  conversation  which  society  ofiers 
them,  that  they  fly  its  assemblies,  and  seek  those  with  whom 
they  may  have  discourse  that  is  at  least  real,  though  unpol- 
ished. The  men  who  thus  long  for  substantial  mental  sym- 
pathy, and  will  go  where  they  can  get  it,  are  often,  indeed, 
much  better  at  the  core  than  the  men  who  are  content  with 


102  MAls^NERS    AND    FASHIOX. 

the  inanities  of  gloved  and  scented  party-goers — men  who 
feel  no  need  to  come  morally  nearer  to  their  fellow  crea- 
tures than  they  can  come  while  standing,  tea-cup  in  hand, 
answering  trifles  with  trifles ;  and  who,  by  feeling  no  such 
need,  prove  themselves  shallow-thoughted  and  cold-hearted. 

It  is  true,  that  some  who  shun  drawing-rooms  do  so  from 
inability  to  bear  the  restraints  prescribed  by  a  genuine  re- 
finement, and  that  they  would  be  greatly  improved  by  being 
kept  under  these  restraints.  But  it  is  not  less  true  that,  by 
adding  to  the  legitimate  restraints,  which  are  based  on  con- 
venience and  a  regard  for  others,  a  host  of  factitious  re- 
straints based  only  on  convention,  the  refinmg  discipline, 
which  would  else  have  been  borne  with  benefit,  is  rendered 
unbearable,  and  so  misses  its  end.  Excess  of  government 
invariably  defeats  itself  by  driving  away  those  to  be.  gov- 
erned. And  if  over  all  who  desert  its  entertainments  in 
disgust  either  at  their  emptiness  or  their  formality,  society 
thus  loses  its  salutary  influence — if  such  not  cmly  fail  to  re- 
ceive that  moral  culture  which  the  company  of  ladies,  when 
rationally  regulated,  would  give  them,  but,  in  default  of 
other  relaxation,  are  driven  into  habits  and  companionships 
which  often  end  in  gambling  and  drunkenness ;  must  we 
not  say  that  here,  too,  is  an  evil  not  to  be  passed  over  as 
msignificant  ? 

Then  consider  what  a  blighting  eflfect  these  multitudi- 
nous preparations  and  ceremonies  have  upon  the  pleasures 
they  profess  to  subserve.  Who,  on  calling  to  mind  the  oc- 
casions of  his  highest  social  enjoyments,  does  not  find  them 
to  have  been  wholly  informal,  perhaps  impromptu  ?  How 
delightful  a  picnic  of  friends,  who  forget  all  observances 
save  those  dictated  by  good  nature !  How  pleasant  tlio 
little  unpretended  gatherings  of  book-societies,  and  the 
like ;  or  those  purely  accidental  meetings  of  a  few  people 
well  known  to  each  other !  Then,  indeed,  we  may  see  that 
"  a  man  sharpeneth  the  countenance  of  his  friend."    Cheeks 


CONDITIONS   OF   SOCIAL    ENJOYMENT.  103 

flusL,  and  eyes  sparkle.  The  witty  grow  brilliant,  and  even 
the  dull  are  excited  into  saying  good  things.  There  is  an 
overflow  of  topics ;  and  the  right  thought,  and  the  right 
words  to  put  it  in,  spring  up  unsought.  Grave  alternates 
with  gay ;  now  serious  converse,  and  now  jokes,  anecdotes, 
and  playful  raillery.  Everyone's  best  nature  is  shown 
everyone's  best  feelings  are  in  pleasurable  activity;  and, 
for  the  time,  life  seems  well  worth  having. 

Go  now  and  dress  for  some  half-past  eight  dinner,  or 
some  ten  o'clock  "  at  home ;  "  and  present  yourself  in  spot- 
less attire,  with  every  hair  arranged  to  perfection.  How 
great  the  difference  !  The  enjoyment  seems  in  the  inverse 
ratio  of  the  preparation.  These  figures,  got  up  with  such 
finish  and  precision,  appear  but  half  alive.  They  have  fro- 
zen each  other  by  their  primness  ;  and  your  faculties  feel 
the  numbing  effects  of  the  atmosphere  the  moment  you 
enter  it.  All  those  thoughts,  so  nimble  and  so  apt  awhile 
since,  have  disa^jpeared — have  suddenly  acquired  a  preter- 
natural power  of  eluding  you.  If  you  venture  a  remark  to 
your  neighbour,  there  comes  a  trite  rejainder,  and  there  it 
ends.  No  subject  you  can  hit  upon  outlives  half  a  dozen 
sentences.  Nothing  that  is  said  excites  any  real  interest  in 
you ;  and  you  feel  that  all  you  say  is  listened  to  with  apathy. 
By  some  strange  magic,  things  that  usually  give  pleasure 
seem  to  have  lost  all  charm. 

You  have  a  taste  for  art.  Weary  of  frivolous  talk,  you 
turn  to  the  table,  and  find  that  the  book  of  engravings  and 
the  portfolio  of  photographs  are  as  flat  as  the  conversation. 
You  are  fond  of  music.  Yet  the  singing,  good  as  it  is,  you 
hear  with  utter  indifference  ;  and  say  "  Thank  you"  with  a 
sense  of  being  a  profound  hypocrite.  Wholly  at  ease 
though  you  could  be,  for  your  own  part,  you  find  that  your 
eympathies  will  not  let  you.  You  see  young  gentlemen 
feeling  whether  their  ties  are  properly  adjusted,  looking 
vacantly  round,  and  considering  what  they  shall  do  next. 


104  MANNEES    AND   FASHION. 

You  see  ladies  sittiog  disconsolately,  waiting  for  some  one 
to  speak  to  them,  and  wishing  they  had  the  wherewith  tc 
occuj^y  their  fingers.  You  see  the  hostess  standing  about 
the  doorway,  keeping  a  factitious  smile  on  her  face,  and 
racking  her  brain  to  find  the  requisite  nothings  with  which 
to  greet  her  guests  as  they  enter.  You  see  numberlesd 
traits  of  weariness  and  embarrassment ;  and,  if  you  have  any 
fellow  feehng,  these  cannot  fail  to  produce  a  feeling  of  dis- 
comfort. The  disorder  is  catching ;  and  do  what  you  will 
you  cannot  resist  the  general  infection.  You  struggle 
against  it ;  you  make  spasmodic  efibrts  to  be  lively ;  but 
none  of  your  sallies  or  your  good  stories  do  more  than 
raise  a  simper  or  a  forced  laugh  :  intellect  and  feeling  are 
alike  asphyxiated.  And  when,  at  length,  yielding  to  your 
disgust,  you  rush  away,  how  great  is  the  relief  when  you 
get  into  the  fresh  air,  and  see  the  stars  !  How  you  "  Thank 
God,  that's  over ! "  and  half  resolve  to  avoid  all  such  bore- 
dom for  the  future  ! 

What,  now,  is  the  secret  of  this  perpetual  miscarriage 
and  disaj^jjointment  ?  Does  not  the  fault  lie  with  all  these 
needless  adjuncts — these  elaborate  dressings,  these  set 
forms,  these  expensive  preparations,  these  many  devices 
and  arrangements  that  imply  trouble  and  raise  expectation? 
Who  that  has  lived  thirty  years  in  the  world  has  not  dis- 
covered that  Pleasure  is  coy ;  and  must  not  be  too  directly 
pursued,  but  must  be  caught  unawares  ?  An  air  from  a 
street-piano,  heard  while  at  work,  will  often  gratify  more 
than  the  choicest  music  played  at  a  concert  by  the  most 
accomplished  musicians.  A  single  good  picture  seen  in  a 
dealer's  window,  may  give  keener  enjoyment  than  a  whole 
exhibition  gone  through  with  catalogue  and  pencil.  By 
the  time  we  have  got  ready  our  elaborate  apparatus  by 
which  to  secure  happiness,  the  happiness  is  gone.  It  is  too 
subtle  to  be  contained  in  these  receivers,  garnished  with 
compliments,  and  fenced  round  with  etiquette.     The  more 


CONDITIONS    OF   SOCIAL    ENJOYMENT.  105 

we  multiply  and  complicate  appliances,  the  more   certam 
are  we  to  drive  it  away. 

The  reason  is  patent  enough.  These  higher  emotions 
to  which  social  intercourse  ministers,  are  of  extremely  com- 
plex nature ;  they  consequently  depend  for  their  production 
upon  very  numerous  conditions  ;  the  more  numerous  the 
conditions,  the  greater  the  liability  that  one  or  other  of 
them  will  be  disturbed,  and  the  emotions  consequently  pre- 
vented. It  takes  a  considerable  misfortune  to  destroy  ap- 
petite ;  but  cordial  sympathy  with  those  around  may  be  ex- 
tinguished by  a  look  or  a  word.  Hence  it  follows,  that  the 
more  multiplied  the  unnecessary  requirements  with  which 
social  intercourse  is  surrounded,  the  less  likely  are  its 
pleasures  to  be  achieved.  It  is  difficult  enough  to  fulfil 
continuously  all  the  esseiitials  to  a  pleasurable  communion 
with  others :  how  much  more  difficult,  then,  must  it  be 
continuously  to  fulfil  a  host  of  non-essentials  also  !  It  is, 
indeed,  impossible.  The  attempt  inevitably  ends  in  the 
sacrifice  of  the  first  to  the  last — the  essentials  to  the  non- 
essentials. What  chance  is  there  of  getting  any  genuine 
response  from  the  lady  who  is  thinking  of  your  stupidity  in 
taking  her  in  to  dinner  on  the  wrong  arm  ?  How  are  you 
likely  to  have  agreeable  converse  with  the  gentleman  who 
is  fuming  internally  because  he  is  not  placed  next  to  the 
hostess  ?  Formalities,  familiar  as  they  may  become,  neces- 
sarily occupy  attention — necessarily  multiply  the  occasions 
for  mistake,  misunderstanding,  and  jealousy,  on  the  j)art  of 
one  or  other — necessarily  distract  all  minds  from  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  that  should  occupy  them — necessa- 
rily, therefore,  subvert  those  conditions  under  which  only 
any  sterling  intercourse  is  to  be  had. 

And  this  indeed  is  the  fatal  mischief  which  these  con- 
ventions  entail^a  mischief  to  which  every  other  is  sec- 
ondary.     They   destroy   those   highest   of  our   pleasures 
which  they  profess  to  subserve.     All  institutions  are  alike 
5* 


106  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

iu  this,  that  however  useful,  and  needful  even,  they  origi- 
sally  were,  they  not  only  in  the  end  cease  to  be  so,  but  be- 
come detrimental.  While  humanity  is  growing,  they  con- 
tinue fixed ;  daily  get  more  mechanical  and  unvital ;  and 
by  and  by  tend  to  strangle  what  they  before  preserved. 
It  is  not  simply  that  they  become  corrupt  and  fail  to  act 
they  become  obstructions.  Old  forms  of  government  finally 
grow  so  ojipressive,  that  they  must  be  thrown  off  even  at 
the  risk  of  reigns  of  terror.  Old  creeds  end  in  being  dead 
formulas,  which  no  longer  aid  but  distort  and  arrest  the 
g^eneral  mind;  while  the  State-churches  administering  them, 
come  to  be  instruments  for  subsidizing  conservatism  and 
repressing  progress.  Old  schemes  of  education,  incarnated 
in  public  schools  and  colleges,  continue  filling  the  heads  of 
new  generations  with  what  has  become  relatively  useless 
knowledge,  and,  by  consequence,  excluding  knowledge 
which  is  useful.  Not  an  organization  of  any  kind — politi- 
cal, religious,  literary,  philanthropic — but  what,  by  its  ever- 
multiplying  regulations,  its  accumulating  wealth,  its  yearly 
addition  of  officers,  and  the  creeping  into  it  of  patronage 
and  party  feeling,  eventually  loses  its  original  spirit,  and 
sinks  into  a  mere  lifeless  mechanism,  worked  with  a  view 
to  private  ends — a  mechanism  which  not  merely  fails  of  its 
first  purpose,  but  is  a  positive  hindrance  to  it. 

Thus  is  it,  too,  with  social  usages.  We  read  of  the  Chi- 
nese that  they  have  "  ponderous  ceremonies  transmitted 
from  time  immemorial,"  which  make  social  intercourse  a 
burden.  The  court  forms  prescribed  by  monarchs  for  their 
own  exaltation,  have,  in  all  times  and  places,  ended  in  con- 
suming the  comfort  of  their  lives.  And  so  the  artificial 
observances  of  the  dining-room  and  saloon,  in  proportion 
as  they  are  many  and  strict,  extinguish  that  agreeable  com- 
munion which  they  were  originally  intended  to  secure. 
The  dislike  with  which  peoj^le  commonly  speak  of  society 
that  is  "  formal,"  and  "  stifi*,"  and  "  ceremonious,"  implies 


THE   TRUE   SOCIAL   REQUIREMENT.  107 

the  general  recognition  of  this  fact ;  and  this  recognition, 
logically  developed,  involves  that  all  usages  of  behaviour 
which  are  not  based  on  natural  requirements,  are  injurious. 
That  these  conventions  defeat  their  ovt^n  ends  is  no  new 
assertion.  Swift,  criticising  the  manners  of  his  day,  says — 
*'  Wise  men  are  often*  more  uneasy  at  the  over-civility  of 
these  refiners  than  they  could  possibly  be  in  the  conversa- 
tion of  peasants  and  mechanics." 

But  it  is  not  only  in  these  details  that  the  self-defeating 
action  of  our  arrangements  is  traceable :  it  is  traceable  in 
the  very  substance  and  nature  of  them.  Our  social  inter- 
course, as  commonly  managed,  is  a  mere  semblance  of  the 
reality  sought.  What  is  it  that  we  want  ?  Some  sympa- 
thetic converse  with  our  fellow-creatures :  some  converse 
that  shall  not  be  mere  dead  words,  but  the  vehicle  of  living 
thoughts  and  feelings — converse  in  which  the  eyes  and  the 
flice  shall  speak,  and  the  tones  of  the  voice  be  full  of  mean- 
ing— converse  which  shall  make  us  feel  no  longer  alone, 
but  shall  draw  us  closer  to  another,  and  double  our  own 
emotions  by  adding  another's  to  them.  Who  is  there  that 
has  not,  from  time  to  time,  felt  how  cold  and  flat  is  all  this 
talk  about  politics  and  science,  and  the  new  books  and  the 
new  men,  and  how  a  genuine  utterance  of  fellow-feeling 
outweighs  the  whole  of  it  ?  Mark  the  words  of  Bacon  : — 
"  For  a  crowd  is  not  a  company,  and  faces  are  but  a  gallery 
of  pictures,  and  talk  but  a  tinkling  cymbal,  where  there  is 
no  love." 

If  this  be  true,  then  it  is  only  after  acquaintance  has 
grown  into  intimacy,  and  intimacy  has  ripened  into  friend- 
Bhip,  that  the  real  communion  which  men  need  becomes 
possible.  A  rationally-formed  circle  must  consist  almost 
wholly  of  those  on  terms  of  familiarity  and  regard,  with 
but  one  or  two  strangers.  What  folly,  then,  underlies  the 
whole  system  of  our  grand  dinners,  our  "  at  homes,"  our 
evening  parties — assemblages  made  up  of  many  who  nevei 


108  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

met  before,  many  others  who  just  bow  to  each  other,  many 
otliers  who  though  familiar  feel  mutual  indifference,  with 
just  a  few  real  friends  lost  in  the  general  mass  !  You  need 
but  look  round  at  the  artificial  expressions  of  face,  to  see 
at  once  how  it  is.  All  have  their  disguises  on ;  and  how 
can  there  be  sympathy  between  masks  ?  No  wonder  that 
in  private  every  one  exclaims -against  the  stupidity  of  these 
gatherings.  No  wonder  that  hostesses  get  them  np  rather 
because  they  must  than  because  they  wish.  No  v,^onder 
that  the  invited  go  less  from  the  expectation  of  pleasure 
than  from  fear  of  giving  offence.  The  w^hole  thing  is  a  gi- 
gantic mistake — an  organized  disappointment. 

And  then  note,  lastly,  that  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others, 
when  an  organization  has  become  effete  and  inoperative  for 
its  legitimate  purpose,  it  is  employed  for  quite  other  ones 
— quite  opposite  ones.  What  is  the  usual  plea  put  in  for 
giving  and  attending  these  tedious  assemblies  ?  "I  admit 
that  they  are  stupid  and  frivolous  enough,"  replies  every 
man  to  your  criticisms ;  "  but  then,  you  know,  one  must 
keep  up  one's  connections."  And  could  you  get  from  his 
wife  a  sincere  answer,  it  would  be — "  Like  you,  I  am  sick 
of  these  frivolities ;  but  then,  we  must  get  our  daughters 
married."  The  one  knows  that  there  is  a  profession  to 
push,  a  practice  to  gain,  a  business  to  extend :  or  parlia- 
mentary influence,"  or  county  patronage,  or  votes,  or  office, 
to  be  got :  position,  berths,  favours,  profit.  The  other's 
thoughts  runs  upon  husbands  and  settlements,  wives  and 
dowries.  Worthless  for  their  ostensible  purpose  of  daily 
bringing  human  beings  into  pleasurable  relations  with  each 
other,  these  cumbrous  appliances  of  our  social  intercourse 
are  now  perseveringly  kept  in  action  with  a  view  to  the 
pecuniary  and  matrimonial  results  which  they  indirectly 
produce. 

Who  then  shall  say  that  the  reform  of  our  system  of 
observances  is  unimportant  ?     When  we  see  how  this  sys- 


REFORMATION   OF   SOCIAL    OBSERVANCES.  109 

tem  induces  fashionable  extravagance,  with  its  entailed 
bankruptcy  and  ruin — when  we  mark  how  greatly  it  limits 
the  amount  of  social  intercourse  among  the  less  wealthy 
classes — ^when  we  find  that  many  who  most  need  to  be  dis- 
cij^lined  by  mixing  with  the  refined  are  driven  away  by  it, 
and  led  into  dangerous  and  often  fatal  courses — when  we 
count  up  the  many  minor  evils  it  inflicts,  the  extra  work 
which  its  costliness  entails  on  all  professional  and  mercan- 
tile men,  the  damage  to  public  taste  in  dress  and  decora- 
tion by  the  setting  up  of  its  absurdities  as  standards  for 
imitation,  the  injury  to  health  indicated  in  the  faces  of  its 
devotees  at  the  close  of  the  London  season,  the  mortality 
of  milliners  and  the  like,  which  its  sudden  exigencies  yearly 
involve  ; — and  when  to  all  these  we  add  -its  fatal  sin,  that  it 
blights,  withers  up,  and  kills,  that  high  enjoyment  it  pro- 
fessedly ministers  to — that  enjoyment  which  is  a  chief  end 
of  our  hard  struggling  in  life  to  obtain — shall  we  not  con- 
clude that  to  reform  our  system  of  etiquette  and  fashion,  is 
an  aim  yielding  to  few  in  urgency  ? 

There  needs,  then,  a  protestantism  in  social  usages. 
Forms  that  have  ceased  to  facilitate  and  have  become  ob- 
structive— whether  political,  religious,  or  other — have  ever 
to  be  swept  away ;  and  eventually  are  so  swept  away  in  all 
cases.  Signs  are  not  wanting  that  some  change  is  at  hand. 
A  host  of  satirists,  led  on  by  Thackeray,  have  been  for  years 
engaged  in  bringing  our  sham-festivities,  and  our  fashiona- 
ble follies,  into  contemj^t ;  and  in  their  candid  moods,  most 
men  laugh  at  the  frivolities  with  which  they  and  the  world 
in  general  are  deluded.  Ridicule  has  always  been  a  revo- 
lutionary agent.  That  which  is  habitually  assailed  with 
sneers  and  sarcasms  cannot  long  survive.  Institutions  that 
have  lost  their  roots  in  men's  respect  and  faith  are  doomed; 
and  the  day  of  their  dissolution  is  not  far  off.  The  time  is 
approaching,  then,  when  our  system  of  social  observances 


1-10  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

must  pass  through  some  crisis,  out  of  which  it  will  come 
purified  and  comparatively  simple. 

How  this  crisis  will  be  brought  about,  no  one  can  with 
any  certainty  say.  Whether  by  the  continuance  and  in- 
crease of  individual  protests,  or  whether  by  the  union  of 
many  persons  for  the  practice  and  propagation  of  some 
better  system,  the  future  alone  can  decide.  The  influence 
of  dissentients  actmg  without  co-operation,  seems,  under 
the  present  state  of  things,  inadequate.  Standing  severally 
alone,  and  having  no  well-defined  views;  frowned  on  by 
conformists,  and  expostulated  with  even  by  those  who 
secretly  sympathize  with  them ;  subject  to  petty  persecu- 
tions, and  unable  to  trace  any  benefit  produced  by  their 
example ;  they  are  apt,  one  by  one,  to  give  up  their  attempts 
as  hopeless.  The  young  convention-breaker  eventually 
finds  that  he  pays  too  heavily  for  his  nonconformity.  Hat- 
ing, for  example,  everything  that  bears  about  it  any  rem- 
nant of  servility,  he  determines,  in  the  ardour  of  his  inde- 
pendence, that  he  will  uncover  to  no  one.  But  what  he 
means  simj^ly  as  a  general  protest,  he  finds  that  ladies  in- 
terpret into  a  personal  disrespect.  Though  he  sees  that, 
from  the  days  of  chivalry  downwards,  these  marks  of  su- 
preme consideration  paid  to  the  other  sex  have  been  but 
a  hypocritical  counterpart  to  the  actual  subjection  in  which 
men  have  held  them— a  pretended  submission  to  compen- 
sate for  a  real  domination;  and  though  he  sees  that 
when  the  true  dignity  of  women  is  recognised,  the  mock 
dignities  given  to  them  will  be  abolished;  yet  he  does 
not  like  to  be  thus  misunderstood,  and  so  hesitates  in  his 
practice. 

In  other  cases,  again,  his  courage  fails  him.  Such  of 
iis  unconventionalities  as  can  be  attributed  only  to  eccen- 
tricity, he  has  no  qualms  about :  for,  on  the  whole,  he  feels 
rather  complimented  than  otherwise  in  being  considered  a 
disregarder  of  public  opinion.     But  when  they  are  liable  to 


DIFFICTJLTIES   OF   THE    SOCIAL   NONCONFORMIST.  Ill 

be  put  down  to  ignorance,  to  ill-breeding,  or  to  poverty, 
he  becomes  a  coward.  However  clearly  the  recent  innova- 
tion of  eating  some  kinds  of  fish  with  knife  and  fork  proves 
the  fork-and-bread  practice  to  have  had  little  but  caprice 
for  its  basis,  yet  he  dares  not  wholly  ignore  that  practice 
while  fashion  partially  maintains  it.  Though  he  thinks 
that  a  silk  handkerchief  is  quite  as  appropriate  for  drawling- 
room  use  as  a  white  cambric  one,  he  is  not  altogether  at 
ease  in  acting  out  his  opinion.  Then,  too,  he  begins  to 
perceive  that  his  resistance  to  prescription  brings  round 
disadvantageous  results  which  he  had  not  calculated  upon. 
lie  had  expected  that  it  would  save  him  from  a  great  deal 
of  social  intercourse  of  a  frivolous  kind — that  it  would 
ojffend  the  fools,  but  not  the  sensible  people  ;  and  so  would 
serve  as  a  self-acting  test  by  which  thpse  worth  knowing 
would  be  separated  from  those  not  worth  knowing.  But 
the  fools  prove  to  be  so  greatly  in  the  majority  that,  by 
offending  them,  he  closes  against  himself  nearly  all  the 
avenues  though  which  the  sensible  people  are  to  be 
reached.  Thus  he  finds,  that  his  nonconformity  is  fre- 
quently misinterpreted ;  that  there  are  but  few  directions 
in  which  he  dares  to  carry  it  consistently  out ;  that  the 
annoyances  and  disadvantages  which  it  brings  upon  him 
are  greater  than  he  anticipated  ;  and  that  the  chances  of 
his  doing  any  good  are  very  remote.  Hence  he  gradually 
loses  resolution,  and  lapses,  step  by  step,  into  the  ordinary 
routine  of  observances. 

Abortive  as  individual  protests  thus  generally  turn  out, 
It  may  possibly  be  that  nothing  effectual  will  be  done  until 
there  arises  some  organized  resistance  to  this  invisible 
despotism,  by  which  our  modes  and  habits  are  dictated. 
It  may  happen,  that  the  government  of  Manners  and  Fash- 
ion will  be  rendered  less  tyrannical,  as  the  political  and 
religious  governments  have  been,  by  some  antagonistic 
union.     AHke  in  Church  and  State,  men's  first  emancipa. 


112  MANNERS   AND   FASHION. 

tions  from  excess  of  restriction  were  achieved  by  numbers, 
bound  together  by  a  common  creed  or  a  common  political 
faith.  What  remained  undone  while  there  were  but  indivi- 
dual schismatics  or  rebels,  was  effected  when  there  came 
to  be  many  acting  m  concert.  It  is  tolerably  clear  that 
these  earliest  instalments  of  freedom  could  not  have  been 
obtained  in  any  other  way ;  for  so  long  as  the  feeling  of 
personal  independence  was  weak  and  the  rule  strong,  there 
could  never  have  been  a  sufficient  number  of  separate  dis- 
sentients to  produce  the  desired  results.  Only  in  these 
later  times,  during  which  the  secular  and  spiritual  controls 
have  been  growing  less  coercive,  and  the  tendency  towards 
individual  liberty  greater,  has  it  become  possible  for  smaller 
and  smaller  sects  and  parties  to  fight  against  established 
creeds  and  laws  ;  until  now  men  may  safely  stand  even 
alone  in  their  antagonism. 

The  failure  of  individual  nonconformity  to  customs,  as 
above  illustrated,  suggests  that  an  analogous  series  of 
changes  may  have  to  be  gone  through  in  this  case  also.  It 
is  true  that  the  lex  non  scripta  differs  from  the  lex  scripta 
in  this,  that,  being  unwritten,  it  is  more  readily  altered ; 
and  that  it  has,  from  time  to  time,  been  quietly  ameliorated. 
Nevertheless,  we  shall  find  that  the  analogy  holds  substan- 
tially good.  For  in  this  case,  as  in  the  others,  the  essen- 
tial revolution  is  not  the  substituting  of  any  one  set  of 
restraints  for  any  other,  but  the  limiting  or  abolishing  the 
authority  which  prescribes  restraints.  Just  as  the  funda- 
mental change  inaugurated  by  the  Reformation,  was  not  a 
superseding  of  one  creed  by  another,  but  an  ignoring  of 
the  arbiter  who  before  dictated  creeds — -just  as  the  funda- 
mental change  which  Democracy  long  ago  commenced, 
was  not  from  this  jDarticular  law  to.  that,  but  from  the 
despotism  of  one  to  the  freedom  of  all ;  so,  the  paralled 
change  yet  to  be  wrought  out  in  this  su23plementary  gov- 
ernment of  which  we  are  treating,  is  not  the  replacing  of 


A    PROTESTANTISM    IN    SOCIAL   USAGES    NEEDED.       113 

absurd  usnges  by  sensible  ones,  but  the  dethronement  of 
that  secret,  irresponsible  power  which  now  imposes  our 
usages,  and  the  assertion  of  the  right  of  all  individuals  to 
choose  their  own  usages.  In  rules  of  living,  a  West-end 
clique  is  our  Pope ;  and  we  are  all  papists,  with  but  a  mere 
sprinlding  of  heretics.  On  all  who  decisively  rebel,  comes 
down  the  penalty  of  excommunication,  with  its  long 
catalosjue  of  disasfreeable  and,  indeed,  serious  conse- 
quences. 

The  liberty  of  the  subject  asserted  in  our  constitution, 
and  ever  on  the  increase,  has  yet  to  be  wrested  from  this 
subtler  tyranny.  The  right  of  private  judgment,  which 
our  ancestors  wrung  from  the  church,  remains  to  be 
claimed  from  this  dictator  of  our  habits.  Or,  as  before 
said,  to  free  us  from  these  idolatries  and  superstitious  con- 
formities, there  has  still  to  come  a  protestantism  in  social 
usages.  Parallel,  therefore,  as  is  the  change  to  be 
wrought  out,  it  seems  not  improbable  that  it  may  be 
wrought  out  in  an  analogous  way.  That  influence  which 
solitary  dissentients  fail  to  gain,  and  that  perseverance 
which  they  lack,  may  come  into  existence  when  they  unite. 
That  persecution  which  the  world  now  visits  upon  them 
from  mistaking  their  nonconformity  for  ignorance  or  dis- 
respect, may  diminish  when  it  is  seen  to  result  from 
principle.  The  penalty  which  exclusion  now  entails  may 
disappear  when  they  become  numerous  enough  to  form 
visiting  circles  of  their  own.  And  when  a  successful 
stand  has  been  made,  and  the  brunt  of  the  opposition 
has  passed,  that  large  amount  of  secret  dislike  to  our 
observances  which  now  pervades  society,  may  manifest 
itself  with  suflScient  power  to  effect  the  desired  eman- 
cipation. 

Whether  such  will  be  the  process,  time  alone  can  de- 
cide. That  community  of  origin,  growth,  supremacy,  and 
decadence,  which  we  have  found   among  all  kinds  of  gov* 


114:  MANNERS    AND    FASHION. 

eminent,  suggests  a  community  in  modes  of  change  also 
On  the  other  hand,  Nature  often  23erforms  substantially 
similar  operations,  in  ways  apparently  different.  Hence 
these  details  can  never  be  foretold. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  glance  at  the  conclusions  that  have 
been  reached.  On  the  one  side,  government,  originally 
one,  and  afterwards  subdivided  for  the  better  fulfilment  of 
its  function,  must  be  considered  as  having  ever  been,  in  all 
its  branches — political,  religious,  and  ceremonial — bene- 
ficial ;  and,  indeed,  absolutely  necessary.  On  the  other 
side,  government,  under  all  its  forms,  must  be  regarded  as 
subserving  a  temporary  oflice,  made  needful  by  the  unfit- 
ness of  aboriginal  humanity  for  social  life  ;  and  the  succes- 
sive diminutions  of  its  coerciveness  in  State,  in  Church,  and 
in  Custom,  must  be  looked  upon  as  steps  towards  its  final 
disappearance.  To  complete  the  conception,  there  requires 
to  be  borne  in  mind  the  third  fact,  that  the  genesis,  the 
maintenance,  and  the  decline  of  all  governments,  however 
named,  are  alike  brought  about  by  the  humanity  to  be  con- 
trolled :  from  which  may  be  drawn  the  inference  that,  on 
the  average,  restrictions  of  every  kind  cannot  last  much 
longer  than  they  are  wanted,  and  cannot  be  destroyed 
much  faster  than  they  ought  to  be. 

Society,  in  all  its  developments,  undergoes  the  process 
of  exuviation.  These  old  forms  which  it  successively 
throws  off,  have  all  been  once  vitally  united  with  it — have 
severally  served  as  the  protective  envelopes  within  which 
a  higher  humanity  was  being  evolved.  They  are  cast 
aside  only  when  they  become  hindrances — only  when  some 
inner  and  better  envelope  has  been  formed  ;  and  they  be- 
queath to  us  all  that  there  was  in  them  good.  The  periodi- 
cal abolitions  of  tyrannical  laws  have  left  the  administration 
of  justice  not  only  uninjured,  but  purified.  Dead  and 
buried   creeds  have  not  carried  with  them  the  essential 


ONLY   THE   DEAD   FOEMS    PASS    AWAY.  115 

morality  they  contained,  which  still  exists,  uncontaminated 
by  the  sloughs  of  superstition.  And  all  that  there  is  of 
justice  and  kindness  and  beauty,  embodied  in  our  cum- 
brous forms  of  etiquette,  will  live  peremiially  when  the 
forms  themselves  have  been  forgotten. 


III. 

THE  GENESIS  OF  SCIENCE. 


THERE  has  ever  prevailed  among  men  a  vague  notion 
that  scientific  knowledge  differs  in  nature  from  ordinary 
knowledge.  By  the  Greeks,  with  whom  Mathematics — 
literally  things  learnt — was  alon^v  considered  as  knowledge 
proper,  the  distinction  must  have  been  strongly  felt ;  and 
it  has  ever  since  maintained  itself  in  the  general  mind. 
Though,  considering  the  contrast  between  the  achievements 
of  science  and  those  of  daily  unmethodic  thinking,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  such  a  distinction  has  been  assumed ;  yet  it 
needs  but  to  rise  a  little  above  the  common  point  of  view, 
to  see  that  no  such  distinction  can  really  exist :  or  that  at 
best,  it  is  but  a  superficial  distinction.  The  same  faculties 
are  employed  in  both  cases  ;  and  in  both  cases  their  mode 
of  operation  is  fundamentally  the  same. 

If  we  say  that  science  is  organized  knowledge,  we  are 
met  by  the  truth  that  all  knowledge  is  organized  in  a  great- 
er or  less  degree — that  the  commonest  actions  of  the  house- 
hold and  the  field  presuppose  facts  colligated,  inferences 
drawn,  results  expected ;  and  that  the  general  success  of 
these  actions  proves  the  data  by  which  they  were  guided 
to  hav«  been  correctly  put  together.  If,  again,  we  say 
that  science  is  prevision — is  a  seeing  beforehand — is  a  know- 


THE   GEEM   OF    SCIE^^CE   EN    ORDE^AEY    KNOWLEDGE.     117 

lug  in  what  times,  places,  combinations,  or  sequences,  spe- 
cified phenomena  will  be  found ;  we  are  yet  obliged  to  con 
fess  that  the  definition  includes  much  that  is  utterly  foreign 
to  science  in  its  ordinary  acceptation.  For  example,  a  child's 
knowledge  of  an  apple.  This,  as  far  as  it  goes  consists  in 
previsions.  When  a  child  sees  a  certain  form  and  colours, 
it  knows  that  if  it  puts  out  its  hand  it  will  have  certain  im- 
pressions of  resistance,  and  roundness,  and  smoothness; 
and  if  it  bites,  a  certain  taste.  And  manifestly  its  general 
acquaintance  with  surrounding  objects  is  of  like  nature — ^is 
made  up  of  facts  concerning  them,  so  grouped  as  that  any 
part  of  a  group  being  perceived,  the  existence  of  the  other 
facts  included  in  it  is  foreseen. 

If,  once  more,  we  say  that  science  is  exact  prevision,  we 
still  fail  to  establish  the  supposed  difference.  Not  only  do 
we  find  that  much  of  what  we  call  science  is  not  exact, 
and  that  some  of  it,  as  physiology,  can  never  become  exact ; 
but  we  find  further,  that  many  of  the  previsions  constitu- 
ting the  common  stock  alike  of  wise  and  ignorant,  are  ex- 
act. That  an  unsupported  body  will  fall ;  that  a  lighted  candle 
will  go  out  when  immersed  in  water ;  that  ice  will  melt 
when  thrown  on  the  fire — these,  and  many  like  predictions 
relating  to  the  familiar  properties  of  things  have  as  high  a 
degree  of  accuracy  as  predictions  are  capable  of.  It  is  true 
that  the  results  predicated  are  of  a  very  general  character  ; 
but  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  they  are  rigorously  correct 
as  far  as  they  go  :  and  this  is  all  that  is  requisite  to  fulfil 
the  definition.  There  is  perfect  accordance  between  the 
anticipated  jDhenomena  and  the  actual  ones ;  and  no  more 
than  this  can  be  said  of  the  highest  achievements  of  the 
sciences  specially  characterised  as  exact. 

Seeing  thus  that  the  assumed  distinction  between  scien- 
tific knowledge  and  common  knowledge  is  not  logically 
justifiable  ;  and  yet  feeling,  as  we  nmst,  that  however  im- 
possible it  may  be  to  draw  a  line  between  thejii,  the  two 


118  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

are  not  practically  identical ;  there  arises  tlie  question-— 
WTiat  is  the  relationship  that  exists  between  them?  A 
partial  answer  to  this  question  may  be  drawn  from  the  il- 
lustrations just  given.  On  reconsidering  them,  it  will  be 
observed  that  those  portions  of  ordinary  knowledge  which 
are  identical  in  character  with  scientific  knowledge,  com- 
prehend only  such  combinations  of  phenomena  as  are  direct- 
ly cognizable  by  the  senses,  and  are  of  simple,  invariable 
nature.  That  the  smoke  from  a  fire  which  she  is  lighting 
will  ascend,  and  that  the  fire  will  presently  boil  water,  are 
previsions  which  the  servant-girl  makes  equally  well  with 
the  most  learned  physicist ;  they  are  equally  certain, 
equally  exact  with  his  ;  but  they  are  previsions  concerning 
phenomena  in  constant  and  direct  relation — phenomena 
that  follow  visibly  and  immediately  after  their  antecedents 
— phenomena  of  which  the  causation  is  neither  remote  nor 
obscure — phenomena  which  may  be  predicted  by  the  sim* 
plest  possible  act  of  reasoning. 

If,  now,  we  pass  to  the  previsions  constituting  what  is 
commonly  known  as  science — ^that  an  eclipse  of  the  moon 
will  happen  at  a  specified  time  ;  and  when  a  barometer  is 
taken  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  of  known  height,  the  mer- 
curial column  will  descend  a  stated  number  of  inches ;  that 
the  poles  of  a  galvanic  battery  immersed  in  water  will  give 
off,  the  one  an  inflammable  and  the  other  an  inflaming  gas, 
in  definite  ratio — we  perceive  that  the  relations  involved 
are  not  of  a  kind  habitually  presented  to  our  senses ;  that 
they  depend,  some  of  them,  upon  special  combinations  of 
causes  ;  and  that  in  some  of  them  the  connection  between 
antecedents  and  consequents  is  established  only  by  an  ela- 
borate series  of  inferences.  The  broad  distinction,  there- 
fore, between  the  two  orders  of  knowledge,  is  not  in  their 
nature,  but  in  their  remoteness  from  perception. 

If  we  regard  the  cases  in  their  most  general  aspect,  we 
see  that  the  labourer,  who,  on  hearing  certain  notes  in  the 


DEFINITION    OF    SCIENCE.  119 

adjacent  hedge,  can  describe  the  particular  form  and  col- 
ours of  the  bird  making  them  ;  and  the  astronomer,  who, 
having  calculated  a  transit  of  Venus,  can  delineate  the  black 
spot  entering  on  the  sun's  disc,  as  it  will  appear  through 
the  telescope,  at  a  specified  hour ;  do  essentially  the  same 
thing.  Each  knows  that  on  fulfilling  the  requisite  condi- 
tions, he  shall  have  a  preconceived  impression — that  after  a 
definite  series  of  actions  will  come  a  group  of  sensations  of 
a  foreknown  kind.  The  difference,  then,  is  not  in  the  funda- 
mental character  of  the  mental  acts  ;  or  in  the  correctness 
of  the  previsions  accomplished  by  them  ;  but  in  the  com- 
plexity of  the  processes  required  to  achieve  the  previsions. 
Much  of  our  commonest  knowledge  is,  as  far  as  it  goes,  rig- 
orously precise.  Science  does  not  increase  this  precision  ; 
cannot  transcend  it.  What  then  does  it  do  ?  It  reduces 
other  knowledge  to  the  same  degree  of  precision.  That 
certainty  which  direct  perception  gives  us  respecting  coex- 
istences and  sequences  of  the  simplest  and  most  accessi- 
ble kind,  science  gives  us  resj^ecting  coexistences  and  se- 
quences, complex  in  their  dependencies  or  inaccessible  to 
immediate  observation.  In  brief,  regarded  from  this  point 
of  view,  science  may  be  called  cm  extension  of  the  percep- 
tions hy  means  of  reasoning. 

On  further  considering  the  matter,  however,  it  will  per- 
haps be  felt  that  this  definition  does  not  express  the  whole 
fact — that  inseparable  as  science  may  be  from  common 
knowledge,  and  completely  as  we  may  fill  up  the  gap  be- 
tween the  simplest  previsions  of  the  child  and  the  most  re- 
condite ones  of  the  natural  philosopher,  by  interposing  a 
series  of  previsions  in  which  the  complexity  of  reasoning 
involved  is  greater  and  greater,  there  is  yet  a  difference 
between  the  two  beyond  that  which  is  here  described.  And 
this  is  true.  But  the  difference  is  still  not  such  as  enables 
us  to  draw  the  ass\imed  Hne  of  demarcation.  It  is  a  differ- 
ence not  between  common  knowledo:e  and  scientific  knowh 


120  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

edge  ;  but  between  the  successive  phases  of  science  itself, 
or  knowledge  itself — whichever  we  choose  to  call  it.  In 
its  earlier  phases  science  attains  only  to  certainty  of  fore- 
knowledge ;  in  its  later  phases  it  further  attains  to  com- 
pleteness. We  begin  by  discovering  a  relation :  we  end 
by  discovering  the  relation.  Our  first  achievement  is  to 
foretell  the  kind  of  phenomenon  which  will  occur  under 
specific  conditions :  our  last  achievement  is  to  foretell  not 
only  the  kind  but  the  amount.  Or,  to  reduce  the  proposi 
tion  to  its  most  definite  form — undeveloped  science  is  qual- 
itative prevision :  develoj^ed  science  is  qiiantitative  previ 
..  sjon. 

This  will  at  once  be  perceived  to  express  the  remaining 
distinction  between  the  lower  and  the  higher  stages  of  posi- 
tive knowledge.  The  prediction  that  a  piece  of  lead  will 
take  more  force  to  lift  it  than  a  piece  of  wood  of  equal  size, 
exhibits  certainty,  but  not  completeness,  of  foresight.  The 
kind  of  effect  in  which  the  one  body  will  exceed  the  other 
is  foreseen ;  but  not  the  amount  by  which  it  will  exceed. 
There  is  qualitative  prevision  only.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
prediction  that  at  a  stated  time  two  particular  planets  will 
be  in  conjunction  ;  that  by  means  of  a  lever  having  arras  in 
a  given  ratio,  a  known  force  will  raise  just  so  many  pounds ; 
that  to  decompose  a  specified  quantity  of  sulphate  of  iron 
by  carbonate  of  soda  will  require  so  many  grains — these 
predictions  exhibit  foreknowledge,  not  only  of  the  nature 
of  the  effects  to  be  produced,  but  of  the  magnitude,  either 
of  the  effects  themselves,  of  the  agencies  producing  them, 
or  of  the  distance  in  time  oj  space  at  which  they  will  be 
produced.  There  is  not  only  qualitative  but  quantitative 
prevision. 

And  this  is  the  unexpressed  difference  which  leads  us 
f  to  consider  certain  orders  of  knowledge  as  especially  scien- 
\  lific  when  contrasted  with  knowledge  in  general.  Are  the 
\    phenomena  measurable  f  is  the  test  which  we  unconsciously 


SCIENCE   ADVANCES    TO    MEASUREMENT.  V21 

employ.  Space  is  measurable:  hence  Geometry.  Force  ; 
and  space  are  measurable :  hence  Statics.  Time,  force,  and 
space  are  measurable  :  hence  Dynamics.  The  invention  of 
the  barometer  enabled  men  to  extend  the  principles  of  me- 
chanics to  the  atmosphere ;  and  Aerostatics  existed.  When 
a  thermometer  was  devised  there  arose  a  science  of  heat, 
which  was  before  impossible.  Such  of  our  sensations  as  we 
have  not  yet  found  modes  of  measuring  do  not  originate 
sciences.  We  have  no  science  of  smells ;  nor  have  we  one 
of  tastes.  We  have  a  science  of  the  relations  of  sounds 
diifering  in  pitch,  because  we  have  discovered  a  way  to 
measure  them  ;  but  we  have  no  science  of  sounds  in  respect 
to  their  loudness  or  their  H7nbre,  because  we  have  got  no 
measures  of  loudness  and  timbre. 

Obviously  it  is  this  reduction  of  the  sensible  phenomena 
it  represents,  to  relations  of  magnitude,  which  gives  to  any 
division  of  knowledge  its  especially  scientific  character. 
Originally  men's  knowledge  of  weights  and  forces  was  in 
the  same  condition  as  their  knowledge  of  smells  and  tastes 
is  now — a  knowledge  not  extending  beyond  that  given  by 
the  unaided  sensations  ;  and  it  remained  so  until  weighing 
instruments  and  dynamometers  were  invented.  Before 
there  were  hour-glasses  and  clepsydras^  most  phenomena 
could  be  estimated  as  to  their  durations  and  intervals,  with 
no  greater  precision  than  degrees  of  hardness  can  be  esti- 
mated by  the  fingers.  Until  a  thermometric  scale  was  con- 
trived, men's  judgments  respecting  relative  amounts  of 
heat  stood  on  the  same  footing  with  their  present  judg- 
ments respecting  relative  amounts  of  sound.  And  as  in 
these  initial  stages,  with  no  aids  to  observation,  only  the 
roughest  comparisons  of  cases  could  be  made,  and  only  the 
most  marked  difierences  perceived  ;  it  is  obvious  that  only 
the  most  simple  laws  of  dependence  could  be  ascertained — 
only  those  laws  which  being  uncomplicated  with  others, 
and  not  disturbed  in  their  manifestations,  required  no  nice- 
6 


THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

ties  of  observation  to  disentangle  them.  Whence  it  ap- 
pears not  only  that  in  projDortion  as  knowledge  becomes 
quantitative  do  its  previsions  become  complete  as  well  as 
certain,  but  that  until  its  assumption  of  a  quantitative  char- 
acter it  is  necessarily  confined  to  the  most  elementary  rela- 
tions. 

Moreover  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  while,  on  the  one 
hand,  we  can  discover  the  laws  of  the  greater  proportion 
of  phenomena  only  by  investigating  them  quantitativelj' ; 
on  the  other  hand  we  can  extend  the  range  of  our  quanti- 
tative previsions  only  as  fast  as  we  detect  the  laws  of  the 
results  we  predict.  For  clearly  the  ability  to  specify  the 
magnitude  of  a  result  inaccessible  to  direct  measurement, 
implies  knowledge  of  its  mode  of  dependence  on  something 
which  can  be  measured — implies  that  we  know  the  particu- 
lar fact  dealt  with  to  be  an  instance  of  some  more  general 
fact.  Thus  the  extent  to  which  our  quantitative  previsions 
have  been  carried  in  any  direction,  indicates  the  depth  to 
which  our  knowledge  reaches  in  that  direction.  And  here, 
as  another  aspect  of  the  same  fact,  we  may  further  observe 
that  as  we  pass  from  qualitative  to  quantitative  prevision, 
we  pass  fi'om  inductive  science  to  deductive  science.  Sci- 
ence while  purely  inductive  is  purely  qualitative  :  when  in- 
accurately quantitative  it  usually  consists  of  part  induction, 
part  deduction:  and  it  becomes  accurately  quantitative  only 
when  wholly  deductive.  TVe  do  not  mean  that  the  deduct- 
ive and  the  quantitative  are  coextensive ;  for  there  is  mani- 
festly much  deduction  that  is  qualitative  only.  We  mean 
that  all  quantitative  prevision  is  reached  deductively  ;  and 
that  induction  can  achieve  only  qualitative  prevision. 

Still,  however,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  these  dis- 
tinctions enable  us  to  separate  ordinary  knowledge  from 
science ;  much  as  they  seem  to  do  so.  While  they  show  in 
what  consists  the  broad  contrast  between  the  extreme  forms 
of  the  two,  they  yet  lead  us  to  recognise  their  essential  iden- 


SCIENCE   AN    OUTGEOWTH    OF    COJVOION   KNOWLEDGE.      123 

tity  ;  and  once  more  prove  the  difference  to  be  one  of  de- 
gree only.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  the  commonest  positive 
knowledge  is  to  some  extent  quantitative;  seeing  that  the 
amount  of  the  foreseen  result  is  known  within  certain  wide 
limits.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  highest  quantitative 
prevision  does  pot  reach  the  exact  truth,  but  only  a  very 
near  approximation  to  it.  Without  clocks  the  savage 
knows  that  the  day  is  longer  in  the  summer  than  in  the 
winter ;  without  scales  he  knows  that  stone  is  heavier  than 
flesh :  that  is,  he  can  foresee  respecting  certain  results  that 
their  amounts  will  exceed  these,  and  be  less  than  those- — he 
knows  about  what  they  will  be.  And,  with  his  most  deli- 
cate instruments  and  most  elaborate  calculations,  all  that 
the  man  of  science  can  do,  is  to  reduce  the  difference  be- 
tween the  foreseen  and  the  actual  results  to  an  unimportant 
quantity. 

Moreover,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  not  only  that  all 
the  sciences  are  qualitative  in  their  first  stages, — not  only 
that  some  of  them,  as  Chemistry,  have  but  recently  reached 
the  quantitative  stage — but  that  the  most  advanced  sciences 
have  attained  to  their  present  power  of  determining  quan- 
tities not  present  to  the  senses,  or  not  directly  measurable, 
by  a  slow  process  of  improvement  extending  through  thou- 
sands of  years.  So  that  science  and  the  knowledge  of  the 
uncultured  are  alike  in  the  nature  of  their  previsions,  widely 
as  they  differ  in  range ;  they  j^ossess  a  common  imperfec- 
tion, though  this  is  immensely  greater  in  the  last  than  in 
the  first ;  and  the  transition  from  the  one  to  the  other  has 
been  through  a  series  of  steps  by  which  the  imperfection 
has  been  rendered  continually  less,  and  the  range  continu- 
ally wider. 

These  facts,  that  science  and  the  positive  knowledge  of 
the  uncultured  cannot  be  separated  in  nature,  and  that  the 
one  is  but  a  perfected  and  extended  form  of  the  other, 
must  necessarily  underlie  the  whole  theory  of  science,  its 


124:  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

progress,  and  the  relations  of  its  parts  to  each  other. 
There  must  be  serious  incompleteness  in  any  history  of  the 
sciences,  which,  leaving  out  of  view  the  first  steps  of  their 
genesis,  commences  with  them  only  when  they  assume  defi- 
nite forms.  There  must  be  grave  defects,  if  not  a  general 
untruth,  in  a  philosophy  of  the  sciences  considered  in  their 
interdependence  and  development,  which  neglects  the  in- 
quiry how  they  came  to  be  distinct  sciences,  and  how  they 
were  severally  evolved  out  of  the  chaos  of  primitive  ideas. 

Xot  only  a  direct  consideration  of  the  matter,  but  all 
analogy,  goes  to  show  that  in  the  earlier  and  simpler  stages 
must  be  sought  the  key  to  all  subsequent  intricacies.  The 
time  was  when  the  anatomy  and  physiology  of  the  human 
being  were  studied  by  themselves — when  the  adult  man 
was  analyzed  and  the  relations  of  parts  and  of  functions 
investigated,  without  reference  either  to  the  relations  ex- 
hibited in  the  embryo  or  to  the  homologous  relations  exist- 
ing in  other  creatures.  ISTow,  however,  it  has  become 
manifest  that  no  true  conceptions,  no  true  generalizations, 
are  possible  under  such  conditions.  Anatomists  and  phys- 
iologists now  find  that  the  real  natures  of  organs  and  tis- 
sues can  be  ascertained  only  by  tracing  their  early  evolu- 
tion ;  and  that  the  aflSinities  between  existing  genera  can 
be  satisfactorily  made  out  only  by  examining  the  fossil  gen- 
era to  which  they  are  allied.  Well,  is  it  not  clear  that  the 
like  must  be  true  concerning  all  things  that  undergo  devel- 
opment ?  Is  not  science  a  growth  ?  Has  not  science,  too, 
its  embryology  ?  And  must  not  the  neglect  of  its  embry- 
ology lead  to  a  misunderstanding  of  the  principles  of  its 
evolution  and  of  its  existing  organization  ? 

There  are  a  priori  reasons,  therefore,  for  doubting  the 
truth  of  all  philosophies  of  the  sciences  which  tacitly  pro- 
ceed upon  the  common  notion  that  scientific  knowledge 
and  ordinary  knowledge  are  separate ;  instead  of  com- 
mencing, as  they  should,  by  affiliating  the  one  upon  the 


125 

other,  and  showing  how  it  gradually  came  to  be  distin- 
guishable from  the  other.  We  may  expect  to  find  theii 
generalizations  essentially  artificial ;  and  we  shall  not  be 
deceived.  Some  illustrations  of  this  may  here  be  fitly  in- 
troduced, by  way  of  preliminary  to  a  brief  sketch  of  the 
genesis  of  science  from  the  point  of  view  indicated.  And 
we  cannot  more  readily  find  such  illustrations  than  by 
glancing  at  a  few  of  the  various  classificatio7is  of  the  sci- 
ences that  have  from  time  to  time  been  proposed.  To  con- 
sider all  of  them  would  take  too  much  space :  we  must 
content  ourselves  with  some  of  the  latest. 

Commencing  with  those  which  may  be  soonest  disposed 
of,  let  us  notice  first  the  arrangement  propounded  by  Oken 
An  abstract  of  it  runs  thus  : — 

Part  I.  Mathesis. — Fneumatogeni/ :  Primary  Art,  Primary 
Consciousness,  God,  Primary  Best,  Time,  Polarity,  Mo- 
tion, Man,  Space,  Point,  Line,  Surface,  Globe,  Potation. 
— Hylogeny :  Gravity,  Matter,  Ether,  Heavenly  Bodies, 
Light,  Heat,  Pire. 

(He  explains  that  Mathesis  is  the  doctrine  of  the  whole  ; 
Pneumatogeny  being  the  doctrine  of  immaterial  totalities,  and 
Hylogeny  that  of  material  totalities.) 

Part  IL  Ontology. —  Cosmogeny :  Rest,  Centre,  Motion,  Line, 
Planets,  Form,  Planetary  System,  Comets. — StocMo- 
geny :  Condensation,  Simple  Matter,  Elements,  Air, 
"Water,  Earth. — Stochiology :  Functions  of  the  Elements, 
&c.  &c. — Kingdoms  of  Nature :  Individuals. 

(He  says  in  explanation  that  "  Ontology  teaches  us  the 
phenomena  of  matter.  The  first  of  these  are  the  heavenly 
bodies  comprehended  by  Cosmogeny.  These  divide  into  ele- 
ments— StocMogeny.  The  earth  element  divides  into  miner- 
als—ITi'r?  era  Zo^y.  These  unite  into  one  collective  body — 
Geogeny.     The  whole  in  singulars  is  the  living,  or  Organic^ 


126  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

which  again  divides  into  plants  and  animals.     Biology^  there 
fore,  divides  into  Organogeny^  Phy tosopliy ^  ZoosopJiyy') 

First  Kingdom. — Minerals.     Mineralogy,  Geology. 
Part  III.  Biology. — Organosojihy,  Phytogeny,  Phyto-pliysiology^ 
Phytology,  Zoogeny,  Physiology,  Zoology,  Psychology.'' 

A  glance  over  this  confused  scheme  shows  that  it  is  an 
attemi^t  to  classify  knowledge,  not  after  the  order  in  which 
it  has  been,  or  may  be,  built  np  in  the  human  conscious- 
ness ;  but  after  an  assumed  order  of  creation.  It  is  a 
pseudo-scientific  cosmogony,  akin  to  those  which  men  have 
enunciated  from  the  earliest  times  downwards ;  and  only  a 
little  more  resi^ectable.  As  such  it  will  not  be  thought 
worthy  of  much  consideration  by  those  who,  like  ourselves, 
hold  that  experience  is  the  sole  origin  of  knowledge.  Oth- 
erwise,  it  might  have  been  needful  to  dwell  on  the  incon- 
gruities of  the  arrangements — to  ask  how  motion  can  be 
treated  of  before  space  ?  how  there  can  be  rotation  with- 
out matter  to  rotate  ?  how  polarity  can  be  dealt  with  with- 
out involving  points  and  lines  ?  But  it  will  serve  our  pres- 
ent purpose  just  to  point  out  a  few  of  the  extreme  absurdi- 
ties resulting  from  the  doctrine  which  Oken  seems  to  hold 
in  common  with  Hegel,  that  "  to  philosophize  on  Nature  is 
to  rc-think  the  great  thought  of  Creation."  Here  is  a  sam- 
ple : — 

"  Mathematics  is  the  universal  science  ;  so  also  is  Phys- 
io-philosophy, although  it  is  only  a  part,  or  rather  but  a 
condition  of  the  universe ;  both  are  one,  or  mutually  con- 
gruent. 

"  Mathematics  i-',  however,  a  science  of  mere  forma 
without  substance.  Physio-philosophy  is,  therefore,  mathe- 
fnatics  €7idoiced  icith  substance.'''' 

From  the  English  point  of  view  it  is  sufficiently  amus- 
ing to  find  such  a  dogma  not  only  gravely  stated,  but 
stated  as  an  unquestionable  truth.     Here  we  see  the  expe- 


127 

riences  of  quantitative  relations  which  men  have  gathered 
from  surrounding  bodies  and  generalized  (experience? 
which  had  been  scarcely  at  all  generalized  at  the  beginning 
of  the  historic  period) — we  find  these  generalized  expe- 
riences, these  intellectual  abstractions,  elevated  into  con 
Crete  actualities,  projected  back  into  Nature,  and  consid- 
ered as  the  internal  frame-work  of  things — the  skeleton  by 
which  matter  is  sustained.  But  this  new  form  of  the  old 
realism,  is  by  no  means  the  most  startling  of  the  physio- 
philosophic  principles.     We  presently  read  that, 

"  The  highest  mathematical  idea,  or  the  fundamental 
principle  of  all  mathematics  is  the  zero  =  0."      *       *       * 

"  Zero  is  in  itself  nothing.  Mathematics  is  based  upon 
nothing,  and,  consequently^  arises  out  of  nothing. 

"  Out  of  nothing,  therefore^  it  is  possible  for  somethmg 
to  arise ;  for  mathematics,  consisting  of  propositions,  is 
something,  in  relation  to  0." 

By  such  "  consequentlys"  and  "therefores"  it  is,  that 
men  philosophize  when  they  "  re-think  the  great  thought 
of  creation."  By  dogmas  that  pretend  to  be  reasons,  noth- 
ing is  made  to  generate  mathematics ;  and  by  clothing 
mathematics  with  matter,  we  have  the  universe  !  If  now 
we  deny,  as  we  c?o  deny,  that  the  highest  mathematical  idea 
is  the  zero ; — if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  assert,  as  we  do 
assert,  that  the  fundamental  idea  underlying  all  mathemat- 
ic;s,  is  that  of  equality ;  the  whole  of  Oken's  cosmogony 
disappears.  And  here,  indeed,  we  may  see  illustrated,  the 
distinctive  peculiarity  of  the  German  method  of  procedure 
in  these  matters — the  bastard  a.  iTi^iori  method,  as  it  may 
be  termed.  The  legitimate  a  priori  method  sets  out  with 
propositions  of  which  the  negation  is  inconceivable  ;  the  d, 
priori  method  as  illegitimately  applied,  sets  out  either  with 
propositions  of  which  the  negation  is  not  inconceivable,  or 
with  propositions  like  Oken's,  of  which  the  affirmation  ia 
inconceivable. 


128  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

It  is  needless  to  proceed  further  vdih  the  analysis  ;  else 
might  we  detail  the  steps  by  which  Oken  arrives  at  the 
conclusions  that  "  the  planets  are  coagulated  colours,  for 
they  are  coagulated  light ;  that  the  sphere  is  the  expanded 
nothing  ; "  that  gravity  is  "  a  weighty  nothing,  a  heavy  es- 
sence, striving  towards  a  centre  ;  "  that  "  the  earth  is. the 
identical,  water  the  indifferent,  air  the  different ;  or  the 
first  the  centre,  the  second  the  radius,  the  last  the  peri- 
phery of  the  general  globe  or  of  fire."  To  comment  on 
them  w^ould  be  nearly  as  absurd  as  are  the  propositions 
themselves.  Let  us  pass  on  to  another  of  the  German  sys- 
tems of  knowledge — that  of  Hegel. 

The  simple  fact  that  Hegel  puts  Jacob  Boehme  on  a  par 
with  Bacon,  suffices  alone  to  show  that  his  stand-point  is 
far  remote  from  the  one  usually  regarded  as  scientific :  so 
far  remote,  indeed,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  find  any  common 
basis  on  which  to  found  a  criticism.  Those  who  hold  that 
the  mind  is  moulded  into  conformity  with  surrounding 
things  by  the  agency  of  surrounding  things,  are  necessarily 
at  a  loss  how  to  deal  with  those,  who,  like  Schelling  and 
Hegel,  assert  that  surrounding  things  are  solidified  mind — 
that  Nature  is  "  petrified  intelligence."  However,  let  ug 
briefly  glance  at  Hegel's  classification.  He  divides  philoso- 
phy into  three  parts  : — 

1.  Logic^  or  the  science  of  the  idea  in  itself,  the  pure 
idea. 

2.  The  Philosophy  of  Nature^  or  the  science  of  the  idea 
considered  under  its  other  form — of  the  idea  as  Xature. 

3.  The  Philosophy  of  the  Mind^  or  the  science  of  the 
idea  m  its  return  to  itself. 

Of  these,  the  secpnd  is  divided  into  the  natural  sciences, 
commonly  so  called ;  so  that  in  its  more  detailed  form  the 
series  runs  thus : — Logic,  Mechanics,  Physics,  Organic  Phv- 
sics,  Pbychology. 

Now,  if  we  believe  with  Hegel,  first,  that  tlionglit  is  tie 


129 

true  essence  of  man ;  second,  that  thought  is  the  essence  of 
the  world ;  and  that,  therefore,  there  is  nothing  but  thought ; 
his  classification,  beginning  with  the  science  of  pure  thought, 
may  be  acceptable.  But  otherwise,  it  is  an  obvious  objec- 
tion to  his  arrangement,  that  thought  implies  things  thought 
of — that  there  can  be  no  logical  forms  without  the  substance 
of  experience — that  the  science  of  ideas  and  the  science  ol 
things  must  have  a  simultaneous  origin.  Hegel,  however, 
anticipates  this  objection,  and,  in  his  obstinate  idealism,  re- 
plies,  that  the  contrary  is  true ;  that  all  contained  in  the 
forms,  to  become  something,  requires  to  be  thought :  and 
that  logical  forms  are  the  foundations  of  all  things. 

It  is  not  surprising  that,  starting  from  such  premises,  and 
reasoning  after  this  fashion,  Hegel  finds  his  way  to  strange 
conclusions.  Out  of  space  and  time  he  proceeds  to  build  up 
motion^  matter^  repulsion^  attraction^  weighty  and  inertia. 
He  then  goes  on  to  logically  evolve  the  solar  system.  In 
doing  this  he  widely  diverges  from  the  Newtonian  theory  ; 
reaches  by  syllogism  the  conviction  that  the  planets  are  the 
most  perfect  celestial  bodies ;  and,  not  being  able  to  bring 
the  stars  within  his  theory,  says  that  they  are  mere  formal 
existences  and  not  living  matter,  and  that  as  compared  with 
the  solar  system  they  are  as  little  admirable  as  a  cutaneous 
eruption  or  a  swarm  of  flies.* 

Results  so  outrageous  might  be  left  as  self-disproved, 
were  it  not  'that  speculators  of  this  class  are  not  alarmed  by 
any  amount  of  incongruity  with  established  beliefs.  The 
only  efficient  mode  of  treating  systems  like  this  of  Hegel,  is 
to  show  that  they  are  self-destructive — that  by  their  first 
steps  they  ignore  that  authority  on  which  all  their  subse- 
quent steps  depend.  If  Hegel  professes,  as  he  manifestly 
does,  to  develop  his  scheme  by  reasoning — if  he  presents 

*  It  is  somewhat  curious  that  the  author  of  "  The  Plurality  of  Worlds,*' 
with  quite  other  aims,  should  have  persuaded  himself  into  similar  conclu 
Bions. 


L30  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

successive  inferences  as  necessarily  following  from  certain 
premises  ;  he  implies  the  postulate  that  a  belief  which  ne- 
cessarily follows  after  certain  antecedents  is  a  true  belief: 
and,  did  an  opponent  reply  to  one  of  his  inferences,  that, 
though  it  was  impossible  to  think  the  opposite,  yet  the 
opposite  was  true,  he  would  consider  the  reply  irrational 
The  procedure,  however,  which  he  would  thus  condemn  as 
destructive  of  all  thinking  whatever,  is  just  the  procedure 
exhibited  in  the  enunciation  of  his  own  first  principles. 

Mankind  find  themselves  unable  to  conceive  that  there 
can  be  thought  without  things  thought  of  Hegel,  how- 
ever, asserts  that  there  can  be  thought  without  things 
thought  of.  That  ultimate  test  of  a  true  proj)osition — the 
inability  of  the  human  mind  to  conceive  the  negation  of  it 
— which  in  all  other  cases  he  considers  valid,  he  considers 
invalid  where  it  suits  his  convenience  to  do  so ;  and  yet  at 
the  same  time  denies  the  right  of  an  opponent  to  follow  his 
example.  If  it  is  competent  for  him  to  posit  dogmas,  which 
are  the  direct  negations  of  what  human  consciousness  recog- 
nises; then  is  it  also  competent  for  his  antagonists  to  stop 
him  at  every  step  in  his  argument  by  saying,  that  though 
the  particular  inference  he  is  drawing  seems  to  his  mind, 
and  to  all  minds,  necessarily  to  follow  from  the  premises, 
yet  it  is  not  true,  but  the  contrary  inference  is  true.  Or, 
to  state  the  dilemma  in  another  form  : — If  he  sets  out  with 
inconceivable  propositions,  then  may,  he  with  equal  propri- 
ety make  all  his  succeeding  propositions  inconceivable  ones 
—may  at  every  step  throughout  his  reasoning  draw  exactly 
the  opposite  conclusion  to  that  which  seems  involved. 

Hegel's  mode  of  procedure  being  thus  essentially  sui- 
cidal, the  Hegelian  classification  which  depends  upon 
it,  falls  to  the  ground.  Let  us  consider  next  that  ot 
M.  Comte. 

As  all  his  readers  must  admit,  M.  Comte  presents  us 
with  a  scheme  of  the  sciences  which,  unlike  the  foregoing 


HIGHER    CLAIMS    OF    M.    COMTE.  131 

cues,  demands  respectful  consideration.  Widely  as  we 
differ  from  him,  we  cheerfully  bear  witness  to  the  largeness 
of  his  views,  the  clearness  of  his  reasoning,  and  the  value 
of  his  sijeculations  as  contributing  to  intellectual  progress. 
Did  we  believe  a  serial  arrangement  of  the  sciences  to  be 
possible,  that  of  M.  Comte  would  certainly  be  the  one  we 
should  adopt.  His  fundamental  propositions  are  thor- 
oughly intelligible ;  and  if  not  true,  have  a  great  semblance 
of  truth.  .  His  successive  stejDS  are  logically  co-ordinated  ; 
and  he  supports  his  conclusions  by  a  considerable  amount  of 
evidence — evidence  which,  so  long  as  it  is  not  critically  exam- 
ined, or  not  met  by  counter  evidence,  seems  to  substantiate 
his  positions.  But  it  only  needs  to  assume  that  antagon- 
istic attitude  which  ought  to  be  assumed  towards  new 
doctrines,  in  the  belief  that,  if  true,  they  will  prosper  by 
conquering  objectors — it  needs  but  to  test  his  leading 
doctrines  either  by  other  facts  than  those  he  cites,  or  by 
his  own  facts  differently  applied,  to  at  once  show  that  they 
will  not  stand.  We  will  proceed  thus  to  deal  with  the 
general  principle  on  which  he  bases  his  hierarchy  of  the 
sciences. 

In  the  second  chapter  of  his  Gours  de  Philosophie  Posi- 
tive, M.  Comte  says : — "  Our  problem  is,  then,  to  find 
the  one  ratio7ial  order,  amongst  a  host  of  possible  sys- 
tems." ..."  This  order  is  determined  by  the  degree 
of  simplicity,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing,  of  general- 
ity of  their  phenomena."  And  the  arrangement  he  de- 
duces runs  thus:  Mathematics,  Astronomy,  Physics,  Chem- 
istry, Physiology,  Social  Physics.  This  he  asserts  to  be 
"  the  true  filiation  of  the  sciences."  He  asserts  further, 
that  the  principle  of  progression  from  a  greater  to  a  less 
degi-ee  of  generality,  "  which  gives  this  order  to  the  whole 
body  of  science,  arranges  the  parts  of  each  science."  And, 
finally,  he  asserts  that  the  gradations  thus  established  a 
priori  among  the  sciences,  and  the  parts  of  each  science,  "is 


132  THE   GENESIS   OF    SCIENCE. 

in  essential  conformity  with  the  order  which  has  sponta 
neously  taken  place  among  the  branches  of  natural  j^hiloso 
phy ;  "  or,  in  other  words — corresponds  with  the  order  of 
historic  development. 

Let  us  compare  these  assertions  with  the  facts.  That 
there  may  be  perfect  fairness,  let  us  make  no  choice,  but 
take  as  the  field  for  our  comparison,  the  succeeding  section 
treating  of  the  first  science — Mathematics ;  and  let  us  use 
none  but  M.  Comte's  own  facts,  and  his  own  admissions. 
Confining  ourselves  to  this  one  science,  of  course  our  com- 
j^arisons  must  be  between  its  several  parts.  M.  Comte  says, 
that  the  parts  of  each  science  must  be  arranged  in  the 
order  of  their  decreasing  generality;  and  that  this  oider 
of  decreasing  generality  agrees  with  the  order  of  historic 
development.  Our  inquiry  must  be,  then,  whether  the  his- 
tory of  mathematics  confirms  this  statement. 

Carrying  out  his  principle,  M.  Comte  divides  Mathe- 
matics into  "  Abstract  Mathematics,  or  the  Calculus  (tak- 
ing the  word  in  its  most  extended  sense)  and  Concrete 
Mathematics,  which  is  composed  of  General  Geometry  and 
of  Rational  Mechanics.''  The  subject-matter  of  the  first  of 
these  is  number  ;  the  subject-matter  of  the  second  includes 
space^  time^  motion^  force.  The  one  possesses  the  highest 
possible  degree  of  generality ;  for  all  things  whatever 
admit  of  enumeration.  The  others  are  less  general ;  see- 
ing that  there  are  endless  phenomena  that  are  not  cogniza- 
ble either  by  general  geometry  or  rational  mechanics.  In 
conformity  with  the, alleged  law,  therefore,  the  evolution 
of  the  calculus  must  throughout  have  preceded  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  concrete  sub-sciences.  Now  somewhat  awk- 
wardly for  him,  the  first  remark  M.  Comte  makes  bearing 
upon  this  point  is,  that  "  from  an  historical  point  of  view, 
mathematical  analysis  cqjpears  to  have  risen  out  q/'the  con- 
templation of  geometrical  and  mechanical  facts."  True, 
he  goes  on  to  say  that,  "  it  is  not  the  less  independent  of 


133 

these  sciences  logically  speaking ; "  for  that  "  analytical 
ideas  are,  above  all  others,  universal,  abstract,  and  simple  • 
and  geometrical  conceptions  are  necessarily  founded  on 
them." 

We  will  not  take  advantage  of  this  last  passage  to 
charge  M.  Comte  with  teaching,  after  the  fashion  of  Hegel, 
that  there  can  be  thought  without  things  thought  of.  We 
are  content  simply  to  compare  the  two  assertions,  that 
analysis  arose  out  of  the  contemplation  of  geometrical  and 
mechanical  facts,  and  that  geometrical  concei^tions  are 
founded  upon  analytical  ones.  Literally  interpreted  they 
exactly  cancel  each  other.  Interpreted,  however,  in  a 
liberal  sense,  they  imply,  what  we  believe  to  be  de- 
monstrable, that  the  two  had  a  simultaneous  origin.  The 
passage  is  either  nonsense,  or  it  is  an  admission  that 
abstract  and  concrete  mathematics  are  coeval.  Thus, 
at  the  very  first  step,  the  alleged  congruity  between  the 
order  of  generality  and  the  order  of  evolution,  does  not 
hold  good. 

But  may  it  not  be  that  though  abstract  and  concrete 
mathematics  took  their  rise  at  the  same  time,  the  one 
afterwards  developed  more  rapidly  than  the  other ;  and 
has  ever  since  remained  in  advance  of  it  ?  ISTo  :  and  again 
we  call  M.  Comte  himself  as  witness.  Fortunately  for  his 
argument  he  has  said  nothing  respecting  the  early  stages 
of  the  concrete  and  abstract  divisions  after  their  diver- 
gence from  a  common  root ;  otherwise  the  advent  of 
Algebra  long  after  the  Greek  geometry  had  reached  a  high 
development,  would  have  been  an  inconvenient  fact  for 
him  to  deal  with.  But  passing  over  this,  and  limiting 
ourselves  to  his  own  statements,  we  find,  at  the  opening  of 
the  next  chapter,  the  admission,  that  "the  historical  de- 
velopment of  the  abstract  portion  of  mathematical  science 
has,  since  the  time  of  Descartes,  been  for  the  most  part 
determined  by  that  of  the  concrete."     Further  on  we  read 


[34  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

respecting  algebraic  functions  that  "  most  functions  were 
concrete  in  their  origin — even  those  which  are  at  present 
the  most  purely  abstract ;  and  the  ancients  discovered 
only  through  geometrical  definitions  elementary  algebraic 
properties  of  functions  to  which  a  numerical  value  was  not 
attached  till  long  afterwards,  rendering  abstract  to  us 
what  was  concrete  to  the  old  geometers."  How  do  these 
statements  tally  with  his  doctrine  ?  Again,  having  divided 
the  calculus  into  algebraic  and  arithmetical,  M.  Comte 
admits,  as  perforce  he  must,  that  the  algebraic  is  more 
general  than  the  arithmetical ;  yet  he  will  not  say  that 
algebra  preceded  arithmetic  in  point  of  time.  And  again, 
having  divided  the  calculus  of  functions  into  the  calculus 
of  direct  functions  (common  algebra)  and  the  calculus  of 
indirect  functions  (transcendental  analysis),  he  is  obliged 
to  speak  of  this  last  as  possessing  a  higher  generality  than 
the  first ;  yet  it  is  far  more  modern.  Indeed,  by  implica- 
tion, M.  Comte  himself  confesses  this  incongruity  ;  for  he 
says  : — "  It  might  seem  that  the  transcendental  analysis 
ought  to  be  studied  before  the  ordinary,  as  it  provides  the 
equations  which  the  other  has  to  resolve  ;  but  though  the 
transcendental  is  logically  independent  of  the  ordinary^  it 
is  best  to  follow  the  usual  method  of  study,  taking  the 
ordinary  first."  In  all  these  cases,  then,  as  well  as  at  the 
close  of  the  section  where  he  predicts  that  mathematicians 
will  in  time  "  create  procedures  of  a  v:ider  generality ^'''^  M. 
Comte  makes  admissions  that  are  diametrically  opposed  to 
the  alleged  law. 

In  the  succeeding  chapters  treating  of  the  concrete  de- 
partment of  mathematics,  we  find  similar  contradictions. 
M.  Comte  himself  names  the  geometry  of  the  ancients  spe- 
cial geometry,  and  that  of  moderns  the  general  geometiy. 
He  admits  that  while  "  the  ancients  studied  geometry  with 
reference  to  the  bodies  under  notice,  or  specially;  the 
moderns  study  it  with  reference  to  the  phenomena  to  be 


135 

considered,  or  generally."  He  admits  that  while  "  the  an 
cicnts  extracted  all  they  could  out  of  one  line  or  surface 
before  passing  to  another,"  "  the  moderns,  since  Descartes, 
emj^loy  themselves  on  questions  which  relate  to  any  figure 
whatever."  These  facts  are  the  reverse  of  what,  according 
to  his  theory,  they  should  be.  So,  too,  in  mechanics.  Be- 
fore dividing  it  into  statics  and  dynamics,  M.  Comte  treats 
of  the  three  laws  of  motion,  and  is  obliged  to  do  so  ;  for 
statics,  the  more  ^ewera7  of  the  two  divisions,  though  it 
does  not  mvolve  motion,  is  impossible  as  a  science  until  the 
laws  of  motion  are  ascertained.  Yet  the  laws  of  motion 
pertain  to  dynamics,  the  more  special  of  the  divisions. 
Farther  on  he  points  out  that  after  Archimedes,  who  dis- 
covered the  law  of  equilibrium  of  the  lever,  statics  made 
no  progress  until  the  establishment  of  dynamics  enabled  us 
to  seek  "  the  conditions  of  equilibrium  through  the  laws  of 
the  composition  of  forces."  And  he  adds — "  At  this  day 
this  is  the  method  universally  employed.  At  the  first  glance 
it  does  not  appear  the  most  rational — dynamics  being  more 
complicated  than  statics,  and  precedence  being  natural  to  the 
simpler.  It  would,  in  fact,  be  more  philosophical  to  refer 
dynamics  to  statics,  as  has  since  been  done.  "  Sundry  dis- 
coveries are  afterwards  detailed,  showing  how  completely 
the  develojDment  of  statics  has  been  achieved  by  consider- 
ing its  problems  dynamically ;  and  before  the  close  of  the 
section  M.  Comte  remarks  that  "  before  hydrostatics  could 
be  comprehended  under  statics,  it  was  necessary  that  the 
abstract  theory  of  equilibrium  should  be  made  so  general 
as  to  apply  directly  to  fluids  as  well  as  solids.  This  was  ac- 
complished when  Lagrange  supplied,  as  the  basis  of  the 
whole  of  rational  mechanics,  the  single  princij^le  of  virtual 
velocities."  In  which  statement  we  have  two  facts  directly 
at  variance  with  M.  Comte's  doctrine  ; — ^first,  that  the  sim- 
pler science,  statics,  reached  its  present  development  only 
by  the  aid  of  the  principle  of  virtual  velocities,  which  be- 


136  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

longs  to  the  more  complex  science,  dynamics  ;  and  tbat  this 
"  single  principle  "  underlying  all  rational  mechanics — this 
most  general  form  which  includes  alike  the  relations  of  stat- 
ical, hydrostatical,  and  dynamical  forces — was  reached  so 
late  as  the  time  of  Lagrange. 

Thus  it  is  not  true  that  the  historical  succession  of  the 
divisions  of  mathematics  has  corresponded  with  the  order 
of  decreasing  generality.  It  is  not  true  that  abstract  math- 
ematics was  evolved  antecedently  to,  and  independently 
of  concrete  mathematics.  It  is  not  true  that  of  the  sub- 
divisions of  abstract  mathematics,  the  more  general  came 
before  the  more  special.  And  it  is  not  true  that  concrete 
mathematics,  in  either  of  its  two  sections,  began  with  the 
most  abstract  and  advanced  to  the  less  abstract  truths. 

It  may  be  well  to  mention,  parenthetically,  that  in  de- 
fending his  alleged  law  of  progression  from  the  general  to 
the  special,  M.  Comte  somewhere  comments  upon  the  two 
meanings  of  the  word  general^  and  the  resulting  liability  to 
confusion.  Without  now  discussing  whether  the  asserted 
distinction  can  be  maintained  in  other  cases,  it  is  manifest 
that  it  does  not  exist  here.  In  sundry  of  the  instances 
above  quoted,  the  endeavors  made  by  M.  Comte  himself  to 
disguise,  or  to  explain  away,  the  precedence  of  the  special 
over  the  general,  clearly  indicate  that  the  generality  spoken 
of,  is  of  the  kind  meant  by  his  formula.  And  it  needs  but 
a  brief  consideration  of  the  matter  to  show  that,  even  did 
he  attempt  it,  he  could  not  distinguish  this  generaUty,  which, 
as  above  proved,  frequently  comes  last,  from  the  generality 
which  he  says  always  comes  first.  For  what  is  the  nature 
of  that  mental  process  by  which  objects,  dimensions, 
weights,  times,  and  the  rest,  are  found  capable  of  having 
their  relations  expressed  numerically  ?  It  is  the  formation 
of  certain  abstract  conceptions  of  unity,  duality  and  multi- 
plicity, which  are  applicable  to  all  things  alike.  It  is  the 
invention  of  general  symbols  serving  to  express  thenumer- 


DIVISIONS    OF   MATHEMATICS,    HOW   RELATED.  137 

leal  relations  of  entities,  whatever  be  their  special  charac- 
ters. And  what  is  the  nature  of  the  mental  process  by 
which  numbers  are  found  capable  of  having  their  relations 
expressed  algebraically  ?  It  is  just  the  same.  It  is  the  for- 
mation of  certain  abstract  conceptions  of  numerical  func- 
tions which  are  the  same  whatever  be  the  magnitudes  of 
the  numbers.  It  is  the  invention  of  general  symbols  serv- 
mg  to  express  the  relations  between  numbers,  as  number^ 
express  the  relations  between  things.  And  transcendental 
analysis  stands  to  algebra  in  the  same  position  that  algebra 
stands  in  to  arithmetic. 

To  briefly  illustrate  their  respective  powers  ; — arithme- 
tic can  express  in  one  formula  the  value  of  a  particular 
tangent  to  a  particular  curve  ;  algebra  can  express  in  one 
formula  the  values  of  all  tangents  to  a  particular  curve  ; 
transcendental  analysis  can  express  in  one  formula  the  val- 
ues of  a^^  tangents  to  a/?  curves.  Just  as  arithmetic  deals 
with  the  common  properties  of  lines,  areas,  bulks,  forces, 
periods ;  so  does  algebra  deal  with  the  common  properties 
of  the  numbers  which  arithmetic  presents  ;  so  does  tran- 
scendental analysis  deal  with  the  common  properties  of  the 
equations  exhibited  by  algebra.  Thus,  the  generality  of 
the  higher  branches  of  the  calculus,  when  compared  with 
the  lower,  is  the  same  kind  of  generality  as  that  of  the  lower 
branches  when  compared  with  geometry  or  mechanics. 
And  on  examination  it  will  be  found  that  the  like  relation 
exists  in  the  various  other  cases  above  given. 

Having  shown  that  M.  Comte's  alleged  law  of  progres- 
sion does  not  hold  among  the  several  parts  of  the  same 
science,  let  us  see  how  it  agrees  with  the/acts  when  applied 
to  separate  sciences.  "  Astronomy,"  says  M.  Comte,  at  the 
opening  of  Book  III.,  "  was  a  positive  science,  in  its  geo- 
metrical aspect,  from  the  earliest  days  of  the  school  of  Alex- 
andria ;  but  Physics,  which  we  are  now  to  consider,  had  no 
positive  character  at  all  till  Galileo  made  his  great  discov- 


138  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

eries  on  the  fall  of  heavy  bodies."  On  this,  our  comment  is 
Bimply  that  it  is  a  misrepresentation  based  upon  an  arbi- 
trary misuse  of  words — a  mere  verbal  artifice.  By  choosing 
to  exclude  from  terrestrial  physics  those  laws  of  magnitude, 
motion,  and  position,  which  he  includes  in  celestial  j^hysics, 
M.  Comte  makes  it  appear  that  the  one  owes  nothing  to 
the  other.  Not  only  is  this  altogether  unwarrantable,  but 
it  is  radically  inconsistent  with  his  own  scheme  of  divisions. 
At  the  outset  he  says — and  as  the  point  is  important  we 
quote  from  the  original — "  Pour  la  physique  inorganique 
nous  voyons  d'abord,  en  nous  conformant  toujours  a  I'ordre 
de  generalite  et  de  dependance  des  phenomenes,  qu't-ile  doit 
etre  partagee  en  deux  sections  distinctes,  suivant  qu'elle 
considere  les  phenomenes  generaux  de  I'univers,  ou,  en  par- 
ticulier,  ceux  que  presentent  les  corps  terrestres.  D'ou  la 
physique  celeste,  ou  I'astronomie,  soit  g^ometrique,  soit 
mechanique  ;  et  la  j^hysique  terrestre." 

Here  then  we  have  inorga^iio  physics  clearly  divided 
into  celestial  x)hysics  and  terrestrial  physics — the  pheno- 
mena presented  by  the  universe,  and  the  phenomena  pre- 
sented by  earthly  bodies.  If  now  celestial  bodies  and  ter- 
restrial bodies  exhibit  sundry  leading  phenomena  in  com- 
mon, as  they  do,  how  can  the  generalization  of  these  com- 
mon phenomena  be  considered  as  pertaining  to  the  one  class 
rather  than  to  the  other  ?  If  inorganic  physics  includes 
geometry  (which  M.  Comte  has  made  it  do  by  comprehend- 
ing geometrical  astronomy  in  its  sub-section — celestial  phy- 
sics) ;  and  if  its  sub-section — terrestrial  physics,  treats  of 
things  having  geometrical  properties ;  how  can  the  laws  of 
geometrical  relatiojis  be  excluded  from  terrestrial  physics? 
Clearly  if  celestial  physics  includes  the  geometry  of  ob- 
jects in  the  heavens,  terrestrial  physics  includes  the  geometry 
of  objects  on  the  earth.  And  if  terrestrial  physics  includes 
terrestrial  geometry,  while  celestial  physics  includes  celestial 
geometry,  then  the  geometrical  part  of  terrestrial  physics 


TERRESTRIAL    MECHANICS    PRECEDES   CELESTIAL.      139 

precedes  the  geometrical  part  of  celestial  physics ;  see- 
ing that  geometry  gained  its  first  ideas  from  surrounding 
objects.  Until  men  had  learnt  geometrical  relations  from 
bodies  on  the  earth,  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  under- 
stand the  geometrical  relations  of  bodies  in  the  heavens. 

So,  too,  with  celestial  mechanics,  which  had  terrestrial 
mechanics  for  its  parent.  The  very  conception  of  force., 
which  underlies  the  whole  of  mechanical  astronomy,  is  bor- 
rowed from  our  earthly  experiences  ;  and  the  leading  laws 
of  mechanical  action  as  exhibited  in  scales,  levers,  projec- 
tiles, &c.,  had  to  be  ascertained  before  the  dynamics  of  the 
solar  system  could  be  entered  upon.  What  were  the  laws 
made  use  of  by  Newton  in  working  out  his  grand  discovery? 
The  law  of  falling  bodies  disclosed  by  Galileo  ;  that  of  the 
composition  of  forces  also  disclosed  by  Galileo  ;  and  that 
of  centrifugal  force  found  out  by  Huyghens — all  of  them 
generalizations  of  terrestrial  physics.  Yet,  with  facts  like 
these  before  him,  M.  Comte  places  astronomy  before  phy- 
sics in  order  of  evolution !  He  does  not  compare  the  geo- 
metrical parts  of  the  two  together,  and  the  mechanical 
parts  of  the  two  together ;  for  this  would  by  no  means 
suit  his  hypothesis.  But  he  compares  the  geometrical  part 
of  the  one  with  the  mechanical  part  of  the  other,  and  so 
gives  a  semblance  of  truth  to  his  position.  He  is  led  away 
by  a  verbal  delusion.  Had  he  confined  his  attention  to  the 
things  and  disregarded  the  words,  he  would  have  seen  that 
before  mankind  scientifically  co-ordinated  any  one  class  of 
phenomena  displayed  in  the  heavens,  they  had  previously 
co-ordinated  a  parallel  class  of  phenomena  displayed  upon 
the  surface  of  the  earth. 

Were  it  needful  we  could  fill  a  score  pages  w^ith  the  in- 
congruities of  M.  Comte's  scheme.  But  the  foregoing  sam- 
ples wall  suflace.  So  far  is  his  law  of  evolution  of  the 
sciences  from  being  tenable,  that,  by  following  his  exam* 
pie,  and  arbitrarily  ignoring  one  class  of  facts,  it  would  be 


140  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

possible  to  present,  with  great  plausibility,  just  the  opposite 
generalization  to  that  which  he  enunciates.  While  he  as- 
serts that  the  rational  order  of  the  sciences,  like  the  ordei 
of  their  historic  development,  "  is  determined  by  the  de- 
gree of  simplicity,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing,  of 
generality  of  their  phenomena ; "  it  might  contrariwise  be 
asserted,  that,  commencing  with  the  complex  and  the  spe- 
cial, mankind  have  progressed  step  by  step  to  a  knowledge 
of  greater  simplicity  and  wider  generality.  So  much  evi- 
dence is  there  of  this  as  to  have  drawn  from  Whewell,  in 
his  History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  the  general  remark 
that  "  the  reader  has  already  seen  repeatedly  in  the  course 
of  this  history,  complex  and  derivative  principles  present- 
ing themselves  to  men's  minds  before  simple  and  elemen- 
tary ones." 

Even  from  M.  Comte's  ovna  work,  numerous  facts,  ad 
missions,  and  arguments,  might  be  picked  out,  tending  to 
show  this.  We  have  already  quoted  his  words  in  proof 
that  both  abstract  and  concrete  mathematics  have  pro- 
gressed towards  a  higher  degree  of  generality,  and  that  he 
looks  forward  to  a  higher  generality  still.  Just  to  strength- 
en this  adverse  hypothesis,  let  us  take  a  further  instance. 
From  the  particular  case  of  the  scales,  the  law  of  equilibri- 
um of  which  was  familiar  to  the  earliest  nations  known,  Ar- 
chimedes advanced  to  the  more  general  case  of  the  unequal 
lever  with  unequal  weights;  the  law  of  equilibrium  of 
which  includes  that  of  the  scales.  By  the  help  of  Galileo's 
discovery  concerning  the  composition  of  forces,  D'Alembert 
*'  established,  for  the  first  time,  the  equations  of  equilibrium 
of  any  system  of  forces  applied  to  the  different  points  of  a 
solid  body " — equations  which  include  all  cases  of  levers 
and  an  infinity  of  cases  besides.  Clearly  this  is  progress 
towards  a  higher  generality — towards  a  knowledge  more 
independent  of  special  circumstances — towards  a  study  of 
phenomena  "  the  most  disengaged  from  the  incidents  of 


TWOFOLD    PKOGKESS    OF    SCIENCE.  141 

particular  cases ; "  which  is  M.  Comte's  definition  of  "  the 
most  simple  phenomena."  Does  it  not  indeed  follow  from 
the  familiarly  admitted  fact,  that  mental  advance  is  from 
the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  from  the  particular  to  the  gen- 
eral, that  the  universal  and  therefore  most  simple  truths  are 
the  last  to  be  discovered  ?  Is  not  the  government  of  the 
solar  system  by  a  force  varying  inversely  as  the  square  of 
the  distance,  a  simpler  conception  than  any  that  preceded 
it  ?  Should  we  ever  succeed  in  reducing  all  orders  of  phe- 
nomena to  some  single  law — say  of  atomic  action,  as  M. 
Comte  suggests — must  not  that  law  answer  to  his  test  of 
being  iyidependent  of  all  others,  and  therefore  most  simple  ? 
And  would  not  such  a  law  generalize  the  phenomena  of 
gravity,  cohesion,  atomic  affinity,  and  electric  repulsion,  just 
as  the  laws  of  number  generalize  the  quantitative  phenom- 
ena of  space,  time  and  force  ? 

The  possibility  of  saying  so  much  in  support  of  an  hypo- 
thesis the  very  reverse  of  M.  Comte's,  at  once  proves  that 
his  generalization  is  only  a  half-truth.  The  fact  is,  that 
neither  proposition  is  correct  by  itself;  and  the  actuality  is 
expressed  only  by  putting  the  two  together.  The  progress 
of  science  is  duplex :  it  is  at  once  from  the  special  to  the 
general,  and  from  the  general  to  the  special :  it  is  analytical 
and  synthetical  at  the  same  time. 

M.  Comte  himself  observes  that  the  evolution  of  science 
has  been  accomplished  by  the  division  of  labour ;  bat  he 
quite  misstates  the  mode  in  which  this  division  of  labour 
has  operated.  As  he  describes  it,  it  has  simply  been  an  ar- 
rangement of  phenomena  into  classes,  and  the  study  of  each 
class  by  itself  He  does  not  recognise  the  constant  effect 
of  progress  in  each  class  upon  all  other  classes ;  but  only  on 
the  class  succeeding  it  in  his  hierarchical  scale.  Or  if  he 
■  occasionally  admits  collateral  influences  and  intercommuni- 
cations, he  does  it  so  grudgingly,  and  so  quickly  puts  the 
admissions  out  of  sight  and  forgets  them,  as  to  leave  the 


142  THE    GENESIS    OF   SCIENCE. 

impression  that,  with  but  trifling  exceptions,  the  sciences 
aid  each  other  only  in  the  order  of  their  alleged  succession. 
The  fact  is,  however,  that  the  division  of  labour  in  science, 
like  the  division  of  labour  in  society,  and  like  the  "  physio- 
logical division  of  labour  "  in  individual  organisms,  has  been 
not  only  a  specialization  of  functions,  but  a  continuous  help- 
ing of  each  division  by  all  the  others,  and  of  all  by  each. 
Every  particular  class  of  inquirers  has,  as  it  were,  secreted 
its  own  particular  order  of  truths  from  the  general  mass  of 
material  which  observation  accumulates ;  and  all  other 
classes  -of  inquirers  have  made  use  of  these  truths  as  fast 
as  they  were  elaborated,  with  the  effect  of  enabling  them 
the  better  to  elaborate  each  its  own  order  of  truths. 

It  was  thus  in  sundry  of  the  cases  we  have  quoted  as  at 
variance  with  M.  Comte's  doctrine.  It  was  thus  with  the 
application  of  Huyghens's  optical  discovery  to  astronomical 
observation  by  Galileo.  It  was  thus  with  the  application 
of  the  isochronism  of  the  pendulum  to  the  making  of  in- 
struments for  measuring  intervals,  astronomical  and  other. 
It  was  thus  when  the  discovery  that  the  refraction  and  dis- 
persion of  light  did  not  follow  the  same  law  of  variation, 
affected  both  astronomy  and  physiology  by  giving  us  achro- 
matic telescopes  and  microscopes.  It  was  thus  when  Brad- 
ley's discovery  of  the  aberration  of  light  enabled  him  to 
make  the  first  step  towards  ascertaining  the  motions  of  the 
stars.  It  was  thus  when  Cavendish's  torsion-balance  ex- 
periment determined  the  si^ecific  gravity  of  the  earth,  and 
so  gave  a  datum  for  calculating  the  specific  gravities  of  the 
sun  and  planets.  It  was  thus  when  tables  of  atmospheric 
refraction  enabled  observers  to  write  down  the  real  places 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  instead  of  their  apparent  places.  It 
was  thus  when  the  discovery  of  the  different  expansibilities 
of  metals  by  heat,  gave  us  the  means  of  correcting  our 
chronometrical  measurements  of  astronomical  periods.  It 
was  thus  when  the  lines  of  the  prismatic  spectrum  were 


CONDITIONS    OF   ASTRONOMIC    PROGRESS.  143 

nsed  to  distinguish  the  heavenly  bodies  that  are  of  like  na- 
ture with  the  sun  from  those  which  are  not.  It  was  thus 
when,  as  recently,  an  electro-telegraphic  instrument  was  in- 
vented for  the  more  accurate  registration  of  meridional 
transits.  It  was  thus  when  the  difference  in  the  rates  of  a 
clock  at  the  equator,  and  nearer  the  poles,  gave  data  for 
calculating  the  oblateness  of  the  earth,  and  accounting  for 
the  precession  of  the  equinoxes.  It  was  thus — but  it  is 
needless  to  continue. 

Here,  within  our  own  limited  knowledge  of  its  history,  we 
have  named  ten  additional  cases  in  which  the  single  science 
of  astronomy  has  owed  its  advance  to  sciences  coming  after 
it  in  M.  Comte's  series.  Not  only  its  secondary  steps,  but 
its  greatest  revolutions  have  been  thus  determined.  Kep- 
ler could  not  have  discovered  his  celebrated  laws  had  it  not 
been  for  Tycho  Brahe's  accurate  observations ;  and  it  was 
only  after  some  progress  in  physical  and  chemical  science 
that  the  improved  instruments  with  which  those  observa- 
tions were  made,  became  possible.  The  heliocentric  theory 
of  the  solar  system  had  to  wait  until  the  invention  of  the 
telescope  before  it  could  be  finally  established.  Nay,  even 
the  grand  discovery  of  ail — the  law  of  gravitation — depend- 
ed for  its  proof  upon  an  operation  of  physical  science,  the 
measurement  of  a  degree  on  the  Earth's  surface.  So  complete- 
ly indeed  did  it  thus  depend,  that  Newton  had  actually 
abandoned  his  hypothesis  because  the  length  of  a  degree, 
as  then  stated,  brought  out  wrong  results  ;  and  it  was  only 
after  Picart's  more  exact  measurement  was  published,  that 
he  returned  to  his  calculations  and  proved  his  great  gener- 
aUzation.  Now  this  constant  intercommunion,  which,  for 
brevity's  sake,  we  have  illustrated  in  the  case  of  one  science 
only,  has  been  taking  place  with  all  the  sciences.  Through- 
out the  whole  course  of  their  evolution  there  has  been  a 
continuous  consensus  of  the  sciences — a  consensus  exhibit- 
ing a  general  correspondence  with  the  consensus  of  facul- 


144  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

ties  in  each  jDliase  of  mental  development ;  the  one  being 
an  objective  registry  of  the  subjective  state  of  the  other. 

From  our  present  point  of  view,  then,  it  becomes  obvi- 
ous that  the  conception  of  a  serial  arrangement  of  the  sci- 
ences is  a  vicious  one.  It  is  not  simply  that  the  schemes 
we  have  examined  are  untenable;  but  it  is  that  the  sciences 
cannot  be  rightly  placed  in  any  linear  order  whatever.  It 
is  not  simj^ly  that,  as  M.  Comte  admits,  a  classification 
"  will  always  involve  something,  if  not  arbitrary,  at  least 
artificial ; "  it  is  not,  as  he  would  have  us  believe,  that, 
neglecting  minor  imperfections  a  classification  may  be  sub- 
stantially true  ;  but  it  is  that  any  grouj^ing  of  the  sciences 
in  a  succession  gives  a  radically  erroneous  idea  of  their 
genesis  and  their  dependencies.  There  is  no  "one  rational 
order  among  a  host  of  possible  systems."  There  is  no 
*'  true  filiation  of  the  sciences."  The  whole  hypothesis  is 
fundamentally  false.  Indeed,  it  needs  but  a  glance  at  its 
origin  to  see  at  once  how  baseless  it  is.  Why  a  series  f 
What  reason  have  we  to  suppose  that  the  sciences  admit 
of  a  linear  arrangement?  Where  is  our  warrant  for 
assuming  that  there  is  some  succession  in  which  they  can 
be  i^laced?  There  is  no  reason;  no  warrant.  Whence 
then  has  arisen  the  supposition  ?  To  use  M.  Comte's  own 
phraseology,  we  should  say,  it  is  a  metaphysical  conception. 
It  adds  another  to  the  cases  constantly  occurring,  of  the 
human  mind  being  made  the  measure  of  Nature.  We  are 
obliged  to  think  in  sequence  ;  it  is  the  law  of  our  minds 
that  we  must  consider  subjects  separately,  one  after 
another :  therefore  Nature  must  be  serial — therefore  the 
sciences  must  be  classifiable  in  a  succession.  See  here  the 
birth  of  the  notion,  and  the  sole  evidence  of  its  truth. 
Men  have  been  obliged  when  arranging  in  books  their 
gchemes  of  education  and  systems  of  knowledge,  to  choose 
%ome  order  or  other.     And  from  inquiring  what  is  the  best 


THE    SERIAL    OKDER    ERKONEOUS.  145 

order,  have  naturally  fallen  into  the  belief  that  there  is  an 
order  which  truly  represents  the  facts — ^have  persevered  in 
seeking  such  an  order;  quite  overlooking  the  j)revious 
question  whether  it  is  likely  that  Nature  has  consulted  the 
convenience  of  book-making. 

For  German  j^hilosophers,  who  hold  that  Nature  is 
^'  petrified  intelligence,"  and  that  logical  forms  are  the 
foundations  of  all  things,  it  is  a  consistent  hypothesis  that 
as  thought  is  serial,  Nature  is  serial ;  but  that  M.  Comte, 
who  is  so  bitter  an  opponent  of  all  anthropomorphism, 
even  in  its  most  evanescent  shapes,  should  have  committed 
the  mistake  of  imposing  upon  the  external  world  an  ar- 
rangement which  so  obviously  springs  from  a  limitation  of 
the  human  consciousness,  is  somewhat  strange.  And  it  is 
the  more  strange  when  we  call  to  mind  how,  at  the  outset, 
M.  Comte  remarks  that  in  the  beginning  "  toutes  les  sciences 
sont  cultwees  simultamment  par  les  memes  esjjrits  /  "  that 
this  is  "  inevitable  et  meme  indispensable  y  "  and  how  he 
further  remarks  that  the  different  sciences  are  "  comme 
les  diver ses  branches  d'un  tronc  luiique.^'*  Were  it  not 
accounted  for  by  the  distorting  influence  of  a  cherished 
hypothesis,  it  would  be  scarcely  possible  to  understand 
how,  after  recognising  truths  like  these,  M.  Comte  should 
have  persisted  in  attempting  to  construct  "  une  echelle  en- 
cyclopcdique?'' 

The  metaphor  which  M.  Comte  has  here  so  inconsis- 
tently used  to  express  the  relations  of  the  sciences — • 
branches  of  one  trunk — is  an  approximation  to  the  truth, 
though  not  the  truth  itself.  It  suggests  the  facts  that  the 
sciences  had  a  common  origin ;  that  they  have  been  de- 
veloping simultaneously ;  and  that  they  have  been  from 
time  to  time  dividing  and  sub-dividing.  But  it  does  not 
suggest  the  yet  more  important  fact,  that  the  divisions  and 
sub-divisions  thus  arising  do  not  remain  separate,  but  now 
and   again  re-unite  in   direct   and   indirect   ways.      They 


146  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

inosculate  ;  they  severally  send  off  and  receive  connecting 
growths ;  and  the  intercommunion  has  been  ever  becom- 
ing more  frequent,  more  intricate,  more  widely  ramified. 
There  has  all  along  been  higher  specialization,  that  there 
might  be  a  larger  generalization ;  and  a  deeper  analysis, 
that  there  might  be  a  better  synthesis.  Each  larger  gen- 
eralization has  lifted  sundry  specializations  still  higher  ;  and 
each  better  synthesis  has  prepared  the  way  for  still  deeper 
analysis. 

And  here  we  may  fitly  enter  upon  the  task  awhile  since 
indicated — a  sketchy  of  the  Genesis  of  Science,  regarded  as 
a  gradual  outgrowth  from  common  knowledge — an  exten- 
sion of  the  perceptions  by  the  aid  of  the  reason.  We  pro- 
pose to  treat  it  as  a  psychological  process  historically  dis- 
played ;  tracing  at  the  same  time  the  advance  from  qualita- 
tive to  quantitative  prevision  ;  the  progress  from  concrete 
facts  to  abstract  facts,  and  the  aj^plication  of  such  abstract 
facts  to  the  analysis  of  new  orders  of  concrete  facts ;  the 
simultaneous  advance  in  gereralization  and  speciahzation ; 
the  continually  increasing  subdivision  and  reunion  of  the 
sciences  ;  and  their  constantly  improving  consensus. 

To  trace  out  scientific  evolution  from  its  deepest  roots 
would,  of  course,  involve  a  complete  analysis  of  the  mind. 
For  as  science  is  a  development  of  that  common  knowledge 
acquired  by  the  unaided  senses  and  uncultured  reason,  so 
is  that  common  knowledge  itself  gradually  built  up  out  of 
the  simplest  perceptions.  "We  must,  therefore,  begin 
somewhere  abruptly ;  and  the  most  appropriate  stage 
to  take  for  our  point  of  departure  will  be  the  adult  mind 
of  the  savage. 

Commencing  thus,  without  a  proper  preliminary  analy- 
sis, we  are  naturally  somewhat  at  a  loss  how  to.  present,  in 
a  satisfactory  manner,  those  fundamental  processes  of 
thought  out  of  which  science  ultimately  originates.     Per- 


WHERE    INTELLIGENCE    BEGINS.  14:7 

haps  our  argument  may  be  best  initiated  by  the  proposi 
tion,  that  all  intelligent  action  whatever  depends  upon  the 
discerning  of  distinctions  among  surrounding  things.  The 
condition  under  which  only  it  is  possible  for  any  creature 
to  obtain  food  and  avoid  danger  is,  that  it  shall  be  differ- 
ently affected  by  different  objects — that  it  shall  be  led  to 
act  in  one  way  by  one  object,  and  in  another  way  by 
another.  In  the  lower  orders  of  creatures  this  condition  is 
fulfilled  by  means  of  an  a^^paratus  which  acts  automatically. 
In  the  higher  orders  the  actions  are  partly  automatic, 
partly  conscious.  And  in  man  they  are  almost  wholly 
conscious. 

Throughout,  however,  there  must  necessarily  exist  a 
certain  classification  of  things  according  to  their  properties 
— a  classification  which  is  either  organically  registered  in 
the  system,  as  in  the  inferior  creation,  or  is  formed  by 
experience,  as  in  ourselves.  And  it  may  be  further  re- 
marked, that  the  extent  to  which  this  classification  is 
carried,  roughly  indicates  the  height  of  intelligence — that, 
w^hile  the  lowest  organisms  are  able  to  do  little  more  than 
discriminate  organic  from  inorganic  matter;  while  the 
generality  of  animals  carry  their  classifications  no  further 
than  to  a  limited  number  of  plants  or  creatures  serving 
for  food,  a  limited  number  of  beasts  of  prey,  and  a  limited 
number  of  places  and  materials ;  the  most  degraded  of  the 
human  race  possess  a  knowledge  of  the  distinctive  natures 
of  a  great  variety  of  substances,  plants,  animals,  tools,  per- 
sons, &c.,  not  only  as  classes  but  as  individuals. 

What  now  is  the  mental  process  by  which  classification 
is  effected  ?  Manifestly  it  is  a  recognition  of  the  likeness 
or  imlikeness  of  things,  either  in  respect  of  their  sizes, 
colours,  forms,  weights,  textures,  tastes,  &c.,  or  in  respect 
ol  their  modes  of  action.  By  some  special  mark,  sound,  or 
motion,  the  savage  identifies  a  certain  four-legged  crea- 
ture he  sees,  as  one  that  is  good  for  food,  and  to  be  caught 


148  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

in  a  particular  way  ;  or  as  one  that  is  dangerous  ;  and  acts 
accordingly,  He  has  classed  together  all  the  creatures 
that  are  alike  in  this  particular.  And  manifestly  in  choos- 
ing the  wood  out  of  which  to  form  his  bow,  the  plant  with 
which  to  jDoison  his  arrows,  the  bone  from  which  to  make 
his  fish-hooks,  he  identifies  them  through  their  chief  sensi- 
ble properties  as  belonging  to  the  general  classes,  wood, 
plant,  and  bone,  but  distinguishes  them  as  belonging  to 
sub-classes  by  virtue  of  certain  properties  in  which  they  are 
unlike  the  rest  of  the  general  classes  they  belong  to;  and  so 
forms  genera  and  species. 

And  here  it  becomes  manifest  that  not  only  is  classifica- 
tion carried  on  by  grouping  together  in  the  mind  things 
that  are  like  /  but  that  classes  and  sub-classes  are  formed 
and  arranged  according  to  the  degrees  ofunllkeness.  Things 
widely  contrasted  are  alone  distinguished  in  the  lower 
stages  of  mental  evolution  ;  as  may  be  any  day  observed  in 
au  infant.  And  gradually  as  the  powers  of  discrimination 
increase,  the  widely  contrasted  classes  at  first  distinguished, 
come  to  be  each  divided  into  sub-classes,  differing  from 
each  other  less  than  the  classes  differ  ;  and  these  sub-classes 
are  again  divided  after  the  same  manner.  By  the  continu- 
ance of  which  process,  things  are  gradually  arranged  into 
groups,  the  members  of  which  are  less  and  less  unlike  / 
ending,  finally,  in  groups  whose  members  difTer  only  as 
individuals,  and  not  specifically.  And  thus  there  tends 
ultimately  to  arise  the  notion  of  complete  like?iess.  For 
manifestly,  it  is  impossible  that  groups  should  continue  to 
be  sub-divided  in  virtue  of  smaller  and  smaller  differences, 
without  there  being  a  simultaneous  approximation  to  the 
notion  of  no  drff^erence. 

Let  us  next  notice  that  the  recognition  of  likeness  and 
anlikeness,  which  underlies  classification,  and  out  of  which 
continued  classification  evolves  the  idea  of  complete  like- 
ness— let  us  next  notice  that  it  also  underlies  the  process 


THE    ROOT    OF    PRIMITrV'E    LANGUAGE.  149 

of  naming^  and  by  consequence  language.  For  all  lan- 
guage consists,  at  the  beginning,  of  symbols  which  are  as 
like  to  the  things  symbolized  as  it  is  practicable  to  make 
them.  The  language  of  signs  is  a  means  of  conveying  ideas 
by  mimicking  the  actions  or  pecuharities  of  the  things  re- 
ferred to.  Verbal  language  is  also,  at  the  beginning,  a 
mode  of  suggesting  objects  or  acts  by  imitating  the  sounds 
which  the  objects  make,  or  with  which  the  acts  are  accom- 
panied. Originally  these  two  languages  were  used  simul- 
taneously. It  needs  but  to  w^atch  the  gesticulations  with 
which  the  savage  accompanies  his  speech — to  see  a  Bush- 
man or  a  Kaffir  dramatizing  before  an  audience  his  mode 
of  catching  game — or  to  note  the  extreme  paucity  of 
words  in  all  primitive  vocabularies ;  to  infer  that  at  first,' 
attitudes,  gestures,  and  sounds,  were  all  combined  to  pro- 
duce as  good  a  likeness  as  possible,  of  the  things,  animals, 
persons,  or  events  described ;  and  that  as  the  sounds  came 
to  be  understood  by  themselves  the  gestures  fell  into  dis- 
use :  leaving  traces,  however,  in  the  manners  of  the  more 
excitable  civilized  races.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  suffices 
simply  to  observe,  how  many  of  the  words  current  among 
barbarous  peoples  are  like  the  sounds  appertaining  to  the 
things  signified  ;  how  many  of  our  own  oldest  and  simplest 
words  have  the  same  peculiarity  ;  how  children  tend  to  in- 
vent imitative  words ;  and  how  the  sign-language  sponta- 
neously formed  by  deaf  mutes  is  invariably  based  upon 
imitative  actions — to  at  once  see  that  the  notion  of  likeness 
is  that  from  w^hich  the  nomenclature  of  objects  takes  its 
rise. 

Were  there  space  we  might  go  on  to  point  out  how  this 
law  of  life  is  traceable,  not  only  in  the  origin  but  in  the  de- 
velopment of  language  ;  how  in  primitive  tongues  the  plu- 
ral is  made  by  a  duplication  of  the  singular,  which  is  a 
multiplication  of  the  word  to  make  it  like  the  multiplicity 
of  the  things ;   how  the  use  of  metaphor — that   prolific 


l50  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

Bource  of  new  words — is  a  suggesting  of  ideas  that  are  liJce 
the  ideas  to  be  conveyed  in  some  respect  or  other ;  and 
how,  in  the  copious  use  of  simile,  fable,  and  allegory  among 
uncivilized  races,  we  see  that  complex  conceptions,  which 
there  is  yet  no  direct  language  for,  are  rendered,  by  pre- 
senting known  conceptions  more  or  less  like  them. 

This  view  is  further  confirmed,  and  the  predominance 
of  this  notion  of  likeness  in  primitive  times  further  illus- 
trated, by  the  fact  that  our  system  of  presenting  ideas  to 
the  eye  originated  after  the  same  fashion.  Writing  and 
printing  have  descended  from  picture-language.  The  ear- 
nest mode  of  permanently  registering  a  fact  was  by  depict- 
ing it  on  a  wall ;  that  is — by  exhibiting  something  as  like  to 
the  thing  to  be  remembered  as  it  could  be  made.  Grad- 
ually as  the  practice  grew  habitual  and  extensive,  the  most 
frequently  repeated  forms  became  fixed,  and  presently  ab- 
breviated ;  and,  passing  through  the  hieroglyphic  and  ideo- 
graphic phases,  the  symbols  lost  all  apparent  relations  to 
the  things  signified :  just  as  the  majority  of  our  spoken 
words  have  done. 

Observe  again,  that  the  same  thing  is  true  respecting 
the  genesis  of  reasoning.  The  likeness  that  is  perceived  to 
exist  between  cases,  is  the  essence  of  all  early  reasoning 
and  of  much  of  our  present  reasoning.  The  savage,  hav- 
ing by  experience  discovered  a  relation  between  a  certain 
object  and  a  certain  act,  infers  that  the  like  relation  will  be 
found  in  future  cases.  And  the  expressions  we  constantly 
use  in  our  arguments — "  analogy  implies,"  "  the  cases  are 
not  parallel^''  "  by  parity  of  reasoning,"  "  there  is  no  simi- 
larity^'^— show  how  constantly  the  idea  of  likeness  under- 
Hes  our  ratiocinative  processes. 

Still  more  clearly  will  this  be  seen  on  recognising  the 
fact  that  there  is  a  certain  parallelism  between  reasoning 
and  classification  ;  that  the  two  have  a  common  root ;  and 
that  neither  can  go  on  without  the  other.    For  on  the  one 


THE   NATURE   OF   LIKENESS    IN   REASONING    AND   ART.    151 

hand,  it  is  a  familiar  truth  that  the  attributing  to  a  body  iu 
consequence  of  some  of  its  properties,  all  those  other  prop- 
erties in  virtue  of  which  it  is  referred  to  a  particular  class, 
is  an  act  of  inference.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  form- 
ing of  a  generalization  is  the  putting  together  in  one  class, 
all  those  cases  which  present  like  relations  ;  while  the  draw- 
ing a  deduction  is  essentially  the  perception  that  a  particu- 
lar case  belongs  to  a  certain  class  of  cases  previously  gener- 
alized. So  that  as  classification  is  a  grouping  togetlier  of 
like  things ;  reasoning  is  a  grouping  together  of  like  rela- 
tio7is  among  things.  Add  to  which,  that  while  the  perfec- 
tion gradually  achieved  in  classification  consists  in  the  form- 
ation of  groups  of  objects  which  are  completely  alike  /  the 
perfection  gradually  achieved  in  reasoning  consists  in  the 
formation  of  groups  of  cases  which  are  comjjletely  alike. 

Once  more  we  may  contemplate  this  dominant  idea  of 
likeness  as  exhibited  in  art.  All  art,  civilized  as  well  as 
savage,  consists  almost  wholly  in  the  making  of  objects  like 
other  objects ;  either  as  found  in  N"ature,  or  as  produced 
by  previous  art.  If  we  trace  back  the  varied  art-products 
now  existing,  we  find  that  at  each  stage  the  divergence 
from  previous  patterns  is  but  small  when  compared  with 
the  agreement ;  and  in  the  earliest  art  the  persistency  of 
imitation  is  yet  more  consj^icuous.  The  old  forms  and 
ornaments  and  symbols  were  held  sacred,  and  perpetually 
copied.  Indeed,  the  strong  imitative  tendency  notoriously 
displayed  by  the  lowest  human  races,  ensures  among  them, 
a  constant  reproducing  of  likenesses  of  things,  forms,  signs, 
sounds,  actions,  and  whatever  else  is  imitable  ;  and  we  may 
even  suspect  that  this  aboriginal  peculiarity  is  in  some  way 
connected  with  the  culture  and  development  of  this  gen- 
eral conception,  which  we  have  found  so  deep  and  wide- 
spread in  its  applications. 

And  now  let  us  go  on  to  consider  how,  by  a  further 
unfolding  of  this  same  fundamental  notion,  there  is  a  grad- 


A 


152  *  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

aal  formation  of  the  first  germs  of  science.  Tliis  idea  ol 
likeness  which  nnclerhes  classification,  nomenclature,  lan- 
guage spoken  and  written,  reasoning,  and  art ;  and  which 
plays  so  important  a  part  because  all  acts  of  intelligence 
are  made  possible  only  by  distinguishing  among  surround' 
ing  things,  or  grouping  them  into  like  and  unlike  ; — this 
idea  we  shall  find  to  be  the  one  of  which  science  is  the  es- 
pecial product.  Already  dnring  the  stage  we  have  been 
describing,  there  has  existed  qualitative  prevision  in  re- 
spect to  the  commoner  phenomena  with  which  savage  life 
is  familiar  ;  and  we  have  now  to  inquire  how  the  elements 
of  quantitative  prevision  are  evolved.  "We  shall  find  that 
they  originate  by  the  perfecting  of  this  same  idea  of  like- 
ness ;  that  they  have  their  rise  in  that  concejjtion  of  com- 
plete likeness  which,  as  we  have  seen,  necessarily  results 
from  the  continued  process  of  classification. 

For  when  the  process  of  classification  has  been  carried 
as  far  as  it  is  possible  for  the  uncivilized  to  carry  it — when 
the  animal  kingdom  has  been  grouped  not  merely  into 
quadrupeds,  birds,  fishes,  and  insects,  but  each  of  these  di- 
vided into  kinds — when  there  come  to  be  sub-classes,  in 
each  of  which  the  members  difler  only  as  individnals,  and 
not  specifically  ;  it  is  clear  that  there  must  occur  a  frequent 
observation  of  objects  which  difier  so  little  as  to  be  indis- 
tinguishable. Among  several  creatures  which  the  savage 
has  killed  and  carried  home,  it  must  often  happen  that 
some  one,  which  he  wished  to  identify,  is  so  exactly  hke 
another  that  he  cannot  tell  which  is  which.  Thus,  then, 
there  originates  the  notion  of  equality.  The  things  which 
among  ourselves  are  called  equal — whether  lines,  angles, 
weights,  temperatures,  sounds  or  colours — are  things  which 
produce  in  us  sensations  that  cannot  be  distinguished  from 
each  other.  It  is  true  that  we  now  apply  the  word  eqical 
chiefly  to  the  separate  phenomena  which  objects  exhibit; 
and  not  to  groups  of  phenomena ;  but  this  limitation  of  the 


IDEAS    OF    EQUALITY    AND    SESIILAKITY.  153 

idea  has  evidently  arisen  by  subsequent  analysis.  And  that 
the  notion  of  equality  did  thus  originate,  will,  we  think, 
become  obvious  on  remembering  that  as  there  were  no  ar- 
tificial objects  from  which  it  could  have  been  abstracted,  it 
must  have  been  abstracted  from  natural  objects  ;  and  that 
the  various  families  of  the  animal  kingdom  chiefly  furnish 
those  natural  objects  which  display  the  requisite  exactitude 
of  likeness. 

The  same  order  of  experiences  out  of  which  this  gene- 
ral idea  of  equality  is  evolved,  gives  birth  at  the  same  time 
to  a  more  complex  idea  of  equality  ;  or,  rather,  the  process 
just  described  generates  an  idea  of  equality  which  further 
experience  separates  into  two  ideas — equality  of  things  2^w^ 
eqicality  of  relatio7is.  While  organic,  and  more  especially 
animal  forms,  occasionally  exhibit  this  perfection  of  likeness 
out  of  which  the  notion  of  simple  equality  arises,  they  more 
frequently  exhibit  only  that  kind  of  likeness  which  we  call 
similarity  ;  and  which  is  really  compound  equality.  For 
the  similarity  of  two  creatures  of  the  same  species  but  of 
different  sizes,  is  of  the  same  nature  as  the  similarity  of  two 
geometrical  figures.  In  either  case,  any  two  parts  of  the 
one  bear  the  same  ratio  to  one  another,  as  the  homologous 
parts  of  the  other.  Given  in  any  species,  the  proportions 
found  to  exist  among  the  bones,  and  we  may,  and  zoologists 
do,  predict  from  any  one,  the  dimensions  of  the  rest ;  just  as, 
when  knowing  the  proportions  subsisting  among  the  parts 
of  a  geometrical  figure,  we  may,  from  the  length  of  one, 
calculate  the  others.  And  if,  in  the  case  of  similar  geome- 
trical figures,  the  similarity  can  be  established  only  by 
proving  exactness  of  proportion  among  the  homologous 
parts ;  if  we  express  this  relation  between  two  parts  in  the 
one,  and  the  corresponding  parts  in  the  other,  by  the  for- 
mula A  is  to  B  as  a  is  to  h  ;  if  we  otherwise  write  this,  A 
to  B=a  to  b  ;  if,  consequently,  the  fact  we  prove  is  that 
the  relation  of  A  to  B  equals  the  relation  of  a  to  b  ;    then 


154  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

[t  is  manifest  that  the  fundamental  conception  of  similarity 
is  equality  of  relations. 

"With  this  explanation  we  shall  be  understood  when  we 
say  that  the  notion  of  equality  of  relations  is  the  basis  of 
all  exact  reasoning.  Already  it  has  been  shown  that  reasoning 
in  general  is  a  recognition  of  likeness  of  relations ;  and 
here  we  further  find  that  while  the  notion  of  likeness  of 
things  ultimately  evolves  the  idea  of  simple  equality,  the 
notion  of  Hkeness  of  relations  evolves  the  idea  of  equality 
of  relations  :  of  which  the  one  is  the  concrete  germ  of  ex- 
act science,  while  the  other  is  its  abstract  germ. 

Those  who  cannot  understand  how  the  recognition  of 
similarity  in  creatures  of  the  same  kind,  can  have  any  alli- 
ance with  reasoning,  will  get  over  the  difficulty  on  remem- 
bering that  the  phenomena  among  which  equality  of  rela- 
tions is  thus  perceived,  are  phenomena  of  the  same  order 
and  are  present  to  the  senses  at  the  same  time ;  while  those 
among  which  developed  reason  perceives  relations,  are  gen- 
erally neither  of  the  same  order,  nor  simultaneously  present. 
And  if  further,  they  will  call  to  mind  how  Cuvier  and  Owen, 
from  a  single  part  of  a  creature,  as  a  tooth,  construct  the 
rest  by  a  process  of  reasoning  based  on  this  equality  of  re- 
lations, they  will  see  that  the  two  things  are  intimately 
connected,  remote  as  they  at  first  seem.  But  we  anticipate. 
What  it  concerns  us  here  to  observe  is,  that  from  familiari- 
ty with  organic  forms  there  simultaneously  arose  the  ideas 
of  simple  equality^  and  equality  of  relations. 

At  the  same  time,  too,  and  out  of  the  same  mental  pro- 
cesses, came  the  first  distinct  ideas  of  miniber.  In  the  earli- 
est stages,  the  presentation  of  several  hke  objects  produced 
merely  an  indefinite  concejDtion  of  multiplicity  ;  as  it  still 
does  among  Australians,  and  Bushmen,  and  Damaras,  when 
the  number  presented  exceeds  three  or  four.  With  such  a 
fact  before  us  we  may  safely  infer  that  the  first  clear  numer- 
ical conception  was  that  of  duality  as  contrasted  with  uni- 


THE    GERM   OF   JSTTTMEEICAL   IDEAS.  155 

ty.  And  this  notion  of  duality  must  necessarily  have  grown 
u])  side  by  side  with  those  of  likeness  and  equality  ;  seeing 
that  it  is  impossible  to  recognise  the  likeness  of  two  things 
without  also  perceiving  that  there  are  two.  From  the 
very  beginning  the  conception  of  number  must  have  been, 
as  it  is  still,  associated  with  the  likeness  or  equality  of 
the  things  numbered.  If  we  analyze  it,  we  find  that  sim- 
ple enumeration  is  a  registration  of  repeated  impres- 
sions of  any  kind.  That  these  may  be  capable  of  enu 
meration  it  is  needful  that  they  be  more  or  less  alike  ;  and 
before  any  absolutely  true  numerical  results  can  be  reach- 
ed, it  is  requisite  that  the  units  be  absolutely  equal.  The 
only  way  in  which  we  can  establish  a  numerical  relation- 
ship between  things  that  do  not  yield  us  like  impressions, 
is  to  divide  them  into  parts  that  do  yield  us  like  impres- 
sions. Two  unhke  magnitudes  of  extension,  force,  time, 
weight,  or  what  not,  can  have  their  relative  amounts  esti- 
mated, only  by  means  of  some  small  unit  that  is  contained 
many  times  in  both  ;  and  even  if  we  finally  write  down  the 
greater  one  as  a  unit  and  the  other  as  a  fraction  of  it,  we 
state,  in  the  denominator  of  the  fraction,  the  number  of 
parts  into  which  the  unit  must  be  divided  to  be  compara- 
ble with  the  fraction. 

It  is,  indeed,  true,  that  by  an  evidently  modern  process  of 
abstraction,  we  occasionally  apply  numbers  to  unequal  units, 
as  the  furniture  at  a  sale  or  the  various  animals  on  a  farm, 
simply  as  so  many  separate  entities ;  but  no  true  result  can 
be  brought  out  by  calculation  with  units  of  this  order. 
And,  indeed,  it  is  the  distinctive  peculiarity  of  the  calculus 
in  general,  that  it  proceeds  on  the  hypothesis  of  that  abso- 
lute equality  of  its  abstract  units,  which  no  real  units  pos- 
sess ;  and  that  the  exactness  of  its  results  holds  only  in 
virtue  of  this  hypothesis.  The  first  ideas  of  number  must 
necessarily  then  have  been  derived  from  like  or  equal  mag- 
nitudes as  seen  chiefly  in  organic  objects  ;    and  as  the  like 


156  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

magnitudes  most  frequently  observed  were  magnitudes  of 
extension,  it  follows  that  geometry  and  arithmetic  had  a 
simultaneous  origin. 

Kot  only  are  the  first  distinct  ideas  of  number  co-ordin 
ate  with  ideas  of  likeness  and  equality,  but  the  first  efforts 
at  numeration  displayed  the  same  relationship.  On  read- 
ing the  accounts  of  various  savage  tribes,  we  find  that  the 
method  of  counting  by  the  fingers,  still  followed  by  many 
children,  is  the  aboriginal  method.  Neglecting  the  several 
cases  in  which  the  ability  to  enumerate  does  not  reach  even 
to  the  number  of  fingers  on  one  hand,  there  are  many  cases 
in  which  it  does  not  extend  beyond  ten — the  limit  of  the 
simple  finger  notation.  The  fact  that  in  so  many  instances, 
remote,  and  seemingly  unrelated  nations,  have  adopted  ten 
as  their  basic  number  ;  together  with  the  fact  that  in  the  re- 
maining instances  the  basic  number  is  either^z;e  (the  fingers 
of  one  hand)  or  twenty  (the  fingers  and  toes)  ;  almost  of 
themselves  show  that  the  fingers  were  the  original  units  of 
numeration.  The  still  surviving  use  of  the  word  digits  as 
the  general  name  for  a  figure  in  arithmetic,  is  significant ; 
and  it  is  even  said  that  our  word  ten  (Sax.  tyn ;  Dutch, 
tien  ;  German,  zehn)  means  in  its  primitive  expanded  form 
two  hands.  So  that  originally,  to  say  there  were  ten  things, 
was  to  say  there  were  two  hands  of  them. 

From  all  which  evidence  it  is  toL*rably  clear  that  the 
earliest  mode  of  conveying  the  idea  of  any  number  of 
things,  was  by  holding  up  as  many  fingers  as  there  were 
things ;  that  is— using  a  symbol  which  wase^'i^a?,  in  respect 
of  multiplicity,  to  the  group  symbolized.  For  which  infer- 
ence there  is,  indeed,  strong  confirmation  in  the  recent 
statement  that  our  own  soldiers  are  even  now  spontaneous- 
ly adopting  this  device  in  their  dealings  with  the  Turks; 
And  here  it  should  be  remarked  that  in  this  recombination 
of  the  notion  of  equality  with  that  of  multiplicity,  by  which 
the  first  steps  in  numeration  are  efifected,  we  may  see  one 


EAELY    INTELLECTUAL    GROWTHS    NON-SEKIAL.         157 

of  the  earliest  of  those  inosculations  between  the  diverging 
branches  of  science,  which  are  afterwards  of  perpetual  occur- 
rence. 

Indeed,  as  this  observation  suggests,  it  will  be  well,  be- 
fore tracing  the  mode  in  which  exact  science  finally  emerges 
from  the  merely  approximate  judgments  of  the  senses,  and 
showing  the  non-serial  evolution  of  its  divisions,  to  note 
the  non-serial  character  of  those  preliminary  processes  of 
which  all  after  development  is  a  continuation.  On  re-con- 
sidering them  it  will  be  seen  that  not  only  are  they  diver- 
gent growths  from  a  common  root, — not  only  are  they  sim- 
ultaneous in  their  progress ;  but  that  they  are  mutual  aids  ; 
and  that  none  can  advance  without  the  rest.  That  com- 
pleteness  of  classification  for  which  the  unfolding  of  the 
perceptions  paves  the  way,  is  impossible  without  a  corre- 
sponding progress  in  language,  by  which  greater  varieties 
of  objects  are  thinkable  and  expressible.  On  the  one  hand 
it  is  impossible  to  carry  classification  far  without  names  by 
which  to  designate  the  classes ;  and  on  the  other  hand  it 
is  impossible  to  make  language  faster  than  things  are  classi- 
fied. 

Again,  the  multiplication  of  classes  and  the  consequent 
narrowing  of  each  class,  itself  involves  a  greater  likeness 
among  the  things  classed  together  ;  and  the  consequent  ap- 
proach towards  the  notion  of  comj^lete  likeness  itself  allows 
classification  to  be  carried  higher.  Moreover,  classification 
necessarily  advances  pari  passu  with  rationality — the  clas- 
sification of  thijigs  with  the  classification  of  relations.  For 
things  that  belong  to  the  same  class  are,  by  implication, 
things  of  which  the  properties  and  modes  of  behaviour — 
the  co-existences  and  sequences — are  more  or  less  the  same ; 
and  the  recognition  of  this  sameness  of  co-existences  and 
sequences  is  reasoning.  Whence  it  follows  that  the  advance 
of  classification  is  necessarily  proportionate  to  the  advance 
of  generalizations      Yet  further,  the  notion  of  likeness^  both 


158  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

in  tilings  and  relations,  simultaneously  evolves  by  one  pro- 
cess of  culture  the  ideas  of  equality  of  things  and  equality 
of  relations ;  which  are  the  resj^ective  bases  of  exact  con- 
crete reasoning  and  exact  abstract  reasoning — Mathematics 
and  Logic.  And  once  more,  this  idea  of  equality,  in  the 
very  process  of  being  formed,  necessarily  gives  origin  to 
two  series  of  relations — those  of  magnitude  and  those  of 
number:  from  which  arise  geometry  and  the  calculus.  Thus 
the  process  throughout  is  one  of  perpetual  subdivision  and 
perpetual  intercommunication  of  the  divisions.  From  the 
very  first  there  has  been  that  consensus  of  different  kinds  of 
knowledge,  answering  to  the  consensus  of  the  intellectual 
faculties,  which,  as  already  said,  must  exist  among  the  sci- 
ences. 

Let  us  now  go  on  to  observe  how,  out  of  the  notions  of 
equality  and  miinber^  as  arrived  at  in  the  manner  described, 
there  gradually  arose  the  elements  of  quantitative  prevision. 

Equality,  once  having  come  to  be  definitely  conceived, 
was  readily  applicable  to  other  phenomena  than  those  of 
magnitude.  Being  predicable  of  all  things  producing  indis- 
tinguishable impressions,  there  naturally  grew  up  ideas  of 
equality  in  weights,  sounds,  colours,  &c. ;  and  indeed  it  can 
scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  occasional  experience  of  equal 
weights,  sounds,  and  colours,  had  a  share  in  developing  the 
abstract  conception  of  equality — that  the  ideas  of  equality 
in  size,  relations,  forces,  resistances,  and  sensible  proj^er- 
ties  in  general,  w^ere  evolved  during  the  same  period. 
But  however  this  may  be,  it  is  clear  that  as  fast  as  the  no- 
tion of  equality  gained  definiteness,  so  fast  did  that  lowest 
kind  of  quantitative  prevision  which  is  achieved  without 
any  instrumental  aid,  become  possible. 

The  ability  to  estimate,  however  roughly,  the  amount 
of  a  foreseen  result,  implies  the  concej^tion  that  it  will  be 
dqual  to  a  certain  imagined  quantity ;  and  the  correctness 
<;)f  the  estimate  will  manifestly  depend  upon  the  accuracy  at 


QTJAi^TITATIVE    EVOLUTION    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  159 

which  the  perceptions  of  sensible  equality  have  arrived.  A 
savage  with  a  piece  of  stone  in  his  hand,  and  another  piece 
lying  before  him  of  greater  bulk  but  of  the  same  kind  (a 
fact  which  he  infers  from  the  equality  of  the  two  in  colour 
and  texture)  knows  about  what  effort  he  must  put  forth  to 
raise  this  other  piece;  and  he  judges  accurately  in  propor- 
tion to  the  accuracy  with  which  he  perceives  that  the  one 
is  twice,  three  times,  four  times,  <fec.  as  large  as  the  other ; 
that  is — in  proportion  to  the  precision  of  his  ideas  of  equali- 
ty and  number.  And  here  let  us  not  omit  to  notice  that 
even  in  these  vaguest  of  quantitative  previsions,  the  concep- 
tion oi  equality  of  relations  is  also  involved.  For  it  is  only 
in  virtue  of  an  undefined  perception  that  the  relation  be- 
tween bulk  and  weight  in  the  one  stone  is  equal  to  the  re- 
lation between  bulk  and  weight  in  the  other,  that  even  the 
roughest  approximation  can  be  made. 

But  how  came  the  transition  from  those  uncertain  per- 
ceptions of  equality  which  the  unaided  senses  give,  to  the 
certain  ones  with  which  science  deals  ?  It  came  by  placing 
the  things  compared  in  juxtaposition.  Equality  being  pre- 
dicated of  things  which  give  us  indistinguishable  impres- 
sions, and  no  accurate  comparison  of  impressions  being 
possible  unless  they  occur  in  immediate  succession,  it  re- 
sults that  exactness  of  equality  is  ascertainable  in  propor- 
tion to  the  closeness  of  the  compared  things.  Hence  the 
fact  that  when  we  wish  to  judge  of  two  shades  of  colour 
whether  they  are  alike  or  not,  we  place  them  side  by  side  ; 
hence  the  fact  that  we  cannot,  with  any  precision,  say  which 
of  two  allied  sounds  is  the  louder,  or  the  higher  in  pitch, 
unless  we  hear  the  one  immediately  after  the  other ;  hence 
the  fact  tliat  to  estimate  the  ratio  of  weights,  we  take  one 
m  each  hand,  that  we  may  compare  their  pressures  by  rap- 
idly alternating  in  thought  from  the  one  to  the  other  ;  hence 
the  fact,  that  in  a  piece  of  music,  we  can  continue  to  make 
equal  beats  when  the  first  beat  has  been  given,  but  cannot 


160  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

ensure  commencing  with  the  same  length  of  beat  on  a  fa- 
ture  occasion ;  and  hence,  lastly,  the  fact,  that  of  all  magni- 
tudes, those  of  linear  extension  are  those  of  which  the 
equality  is  most  accurately  ascertainable,  and  those  to 
which  by  consequence  all  others  have  to  be  reduced.  For 
it  is  the  peculiarity  of  linear  extension  that  it  alone  allow3 
its  magnitudes  to  be  placed  in  absolute  juxtaposition,  or, 
rather,  in  coincident  position ;  it  alone  can  test  the  equality 
of  two  magnitudes  by  observing  whether  they  will  coalesce, 
,as  two  equal  mathematical  lines  do,  when  placed  between 
the  same  points  ;  it  alone  can  test  equality  by  trying  wheth- 
er it  will  become  identity.  Hence,  then,  the  fact,  that  all 
exact  science  is  reducible,  by  an  ultimate  analysis,  to  results 
measured  in  equal  units  of  linear  extension. 

Still  it  remains  to  be  noticed  in  what  manner  this  deter- 
mination of  equality  by  comparison  of  linear  magnitudes 
originated.  Once  more  may  we  perceive  that  surrounding 
natural  objects  supphed  the  needful  lessons.  From  the  be- 
ginning there  must  have  been  a  constant  experience  of  like 
things  placed  side  by  side — men  standing  and  walking  to- 
gether ;  animals  from  the  same  herd;  fish  from  the  same 
shoal.  And  the  ceaseless  repetition  of  these  experiences 
could  not  fail  to  suggest  the  observation,  that  the  nearer 
together  any  objects  were,  the  more  visible  became  any  in- 
equality between  them.  Hence  the  obvious  device  of  put- 
ting in  apposition,  things  of  which  it  was  desired  to  ascer- 
tain the  relative  magnitudes.  Hence  the  idea  of  measure. 
And  here  we  suddenly  come  upon  a  group  of  facts  which 
afford  a  solid  basis  to  the  remainder  of  our  argument;  while 
they  also  furnish  strong  evidence  in  support  of  the  forego- 
ing speculations.  Those  who  look  sceptically  on  this  at- 
tempted rehabilitation  of  the  earhest  epochs  of  mental  de- 
velopment,  and  who  more  especially  think  that  the  derivation 
of  so  many  primary  notions  from  organic  forms  is  somewhat 
strained,  will  perhaps  see  more  probability  in  the  several 


DEVELOPMENT    OF    THE    IDEA    OF    MEASURE.  IGl 

hypotheses  that  have  been  ventured,  on  discorering  that  all 
measures  o^  extension  and/brce  originated  from  the  lengths 
and  weights  of  organic  bodies ;  and  all  measures  of  time 
from  the  periodic  phenomena  of  either  organic  or  inorganic 
bodies. 

Thus,  among  linear  measures,  tlie  cubit  of  the  Hebrews 
was  the  length  of  the  forearm  from  the  elbow  to  the  end 
of  the  middle  finger ;  and  the  smaller  scriptural  dimensions 
are  expressed  in  hand-breadths  and  spans.  The  Egyptian 
cubit,  which  was  similarly  derived,  was  divided  into  digits, 
which  were  finger-hreadths ;  and  each  finger-breadth  was 
more  definitely  expressed  as  being  equal  to  four  grains  of 
barley  placed  breadthwise.  Other  ancient  measures  were 
the  orgyia  or  stretch  of  the  arm,s^  the  ^:>ace,  and  the  palm. 
So  persistent  has  been  the  use  of  these  natural  units  of 
length  in  the  East,  that  even  now  some  of  the  Arabs  mete 
out  cloth  by  the  forearm.  So,  too,  is  it  with  European 
measures.  The  foot  prevails  as  a  dimension  throughout 
Europe,  and  has  done  since  the  time  of  the  Komans,  by 
whom,  also,  it  was  used:  its  lengths  in  different  places  va- 
rying not  much  more  than  men's  feet  vary.  The  heights 
of  horses  are  still  expressed  in  hands.  The  inch  is  the 
length  of  the  terminal  joint  of  the  thumb  j  as  is  clearly 
shown  in  France,  where  ponce  means  both  thumb  and  inch. 
Then  we  have  the  inch  divided  into  three  barley-corns. 

So  completely,  indeed,  have  these  organic  dimensions 
served  as  the  substrata  of  all  mensuration,  that  it  is  only 
by  means  of  them  that  we  can  form  any  estimate  of  some 
of  the  ancient  distances.  For  example,  the  length  of  a 
degree  on  the  Earth's  surface,  as  determined  by  the  Ara- 
bian astronomers  shortly  after  the  death  of  Haroun-al-Ras- 
chid,  was  fifty-six  of  their  miles.  We  know  nothing  of 
their  mile  further  than  that  it  was  4000  cubits  ;  and  whether 
these  were  sacred  cubits  or  common  cubits,  would  remain 
ioubtful,  but  that  the  length  of  the  cubit  is  given  as  twen- 


162 


THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 


ty-seveu  inches,  and  each  inch  defined  as  the  thickness  of 
six  barley- grains.  Thus  one  of  the  earliest  measurements 
of  a  degree  comes  down  to  us  in  barley-grains.  Not  only 
did  organic  lengths  furnish  those  approximate  measures 
which  satisfied  men's  needs  in  ruder  ages,  but  they  fur- 
nished also  the  standard  measures  req.uired  in  later 
times.  One  instance  occurs  in  our  own  history.  To 
remedy  the  irregularities  then  prevailing,  Henry  I.  com- 
manded that  the  ulna,  or  ancient  ell,  which  answers  to 
the  modern  yard,  should  be  made  of  the  exact  length  of 
his  own  arm. 

Measures  of  Aveight  again  had  a  like  derivation.  Seeds 
seem  commonly  to  have  supplied  the  unit.  The  original 
of  the  carat  used  for  weighing  in  India  is  a  small  bean. 
Our  own  systems,  both  troy  and  avoirdupois,  are  derived 
primarily  from  wheat- corns.  Our  smallest  weight,  the 
grain,  is  a  grain  of  wheat.  This  is  not  a  speculation  ;  it  is 
an  historically  registered  fact.  Henry  HI.  enacted  that  an 
ounce  should  be  the  weight  of  640  dry  grains  of  wheat 
from  the  middle  of  the  ear.  And  as  all  the  other  weights 
are  multiples  or  sub-multiples  of  this,  it  follows  that  the 
grain  of  wheat  is  the  basis  of  our  scale.  So  natural  is  it  to 
use  organic  bodies  as  weights,  before  artificial  weights 
have  been  established,  or  where  they  are  not  to  be  had, 
that  in  some  of  the  remoter  parts  of  Ireland  the  people 
are  said  to  be  in  the  habit,  even  now,  of  puttino-  a  man 
into  the  scales  to  serve  as  a  measure  for  heavy  com- 
modities. 

Similarly  with  time.  Astronomical  periodicity,  and  the 
periodicity  of  animal  and  vegetable  life,  are  simultaneously 
used  in  the  first  stages  of  progress  for  estimating  epochs. 
The  simplest  unit  of  time,  the  day,  nature  suppHes  ready 
made.  The  next  simplest  period,  the  mooneth  or  month, 
is  also  thrust  upon  men's  notice  by  the  conspicuous  changes 
constituting  a  lunation.     For  larger  divisions  than  these^ 


PRIMrnYE   MEASUREMENTS    OF   TBIE.  163 

the  phenomena  of  the  seasons,  and  the  chief  events  from 
time  to  time  occurring,  have  been  used  by  early  and  un- 
civilized races.  Among  the  Egyptians  the  rising  of  the 
Nile  served  as  a  mark.  The  New  Zealanders  were  found 
to  begin  their  year  from  the  reappearance  of  the  Pleiades 
above  the  sea.  One  of  the  nses  ascribed  to  birds,  by  the 
Greeks,  was  to  indicate  the  seasons  by  their  migrations. 
Barrow  describes  the  aboriginal  Hottentot  as  denoting 
periods  by  the  number  of  moons  before  or  after  the  ripen- 
ing of  one  of  his  chief  articles  of  food.  He  further  states 
that  the  Kaffir  chronology  is  kept  by  the  moon,  and  is 
registered  by  notches  on  sticks — the  death  of  a  favourite 
chief,  or  the  gaining  of  a  victory,  serving  for  a  new  era. 
By  which  last  fact,  we  are  at  once  reminded  that  in  early 
history,  events  are  commonly  recorded  as  occurring  in  cer- 
tain reigns,  and  in  certain  years  of  certain  reigns:  a  proceed- 
ing which  practically  made  a  king's  reign  a  measure  of 
duration. 

And,  as  further  illustrating  the  tendency  to  divide  time 
by  natural  phenomena  and  natural  events,  it  may  be  no- 
ticed that  even  by  our  own  peasantry  the  definite  divisions 
of  months  and  years  are  but  little  used ;  and  that  they 
habitually  refer  to  occurrences  as  "  before  sheep-shearing," 
or  "  after  harvest,"  or  "  about  the  time  when  the  squire 
died."  It  is  manifest,  therefore,  that  the  more  or  less 
equal  periods  perceived  in  Nature  gave  the  first  units  of 
measure  for  time ;  as  did  Nature's  more  or  less  equal 
lengths  and  weights  give  the  first  units  of  measure  for  space 
and  force. 

It  remains  only  to  observe,  as  further  illustrating  the 
evolution  of  quantitative  ideas  after  this  manner,  that 
measures  of  value  were  similarly  derived.  Barter,  in  one 
form  or  other,  is  found  among  all  but  the  very  lowest  hu- 
man races.  It  is  obviously,  based  upon  the  notion  of 
equality  of  worth.     And  as  it  gradually  merges  into  trade 


164:  THE  OENESTS    OF    SCIENCE. 

by  the  introduction  of  some  kind  of  currency,  we  find 
that  the  oneasures  of  worth,  constituting  this  currency, 
are  organic  bodies ;  in  some  cases  cowries,  in  others 
cocoa'7iuts,  in  others  cattle,  in  others  pigs ;  among  the 
American  Indians  peltry  or  skins,  and  in  Iceland  dried 
fish. 

Xotions  of  exact  equality  and  of  measure  having  been 
reached,  there  came  to  be  definite  ideas  of  relative  magni- 
tudes as  being  multiples  one  of  another  ;  whence  the  prac- 
tice of  measurement  by  direct  apposition  of  a  measure. 
The  determination  of  linear  extensions  by  this  process  can 
scarcely  be  called  science,  though  it  is  a  step  towards  it ; 
but  the  determination  of  lengths  of  time  by  an  analogous 
process  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  earliest  samples  of 
quantitative  prevision.  For  when  it  is  first  ascertained 
that  the  moon  completes  the  cycle  of  her  changes  in  about 
thirty  days — a  fact  known  to  most  uncivilized  tribes  that 
can  count  beyond  the  number  of  their  fingers — it  is  mani- 
fest that  it  becomes  possible  to  say  in  what  number  of  days 
any  specified  phase  of  the  moon  will  recur  ;  and  it  is  also 
manifest  that  this  prevision  is  efiected  by  an  opposition  of 
two  times,  after  the  same  manner  that  hnear  space  is  meas- 
ured by  the  opposition  of  two  fines.  For  to  express  the 
moon's  period  in  days,  is  to  say  how  many  of  these  units 
of  measure  are  contained  in  the  period  to  be  measured — is 
to  ascertain  the  distance  between  two  points  in  time  by 
means  of  a  scale  of  days,  just  as  we  ascertain  the  distance 
between  two  points  in  space  by  a  scale  of  feet  or  inches : 
and  in  each  case  the  scale  coincides  with  the  thing  meas- 
ured— mentally  in  the  one  ;  visibly  in  the  other.  So  that 
in  this  simplest,  and  perhaps  earliest  case  of  quantitative 
prevision,  the  phenomena  are  not  only  thrust  daily  upon 
men's  notice,  but  Nature  is,  as  it  were,  perpetually  repeat- 
ing that  process  of  measurement  by  observing  which 
the  prevision  is  efi\3Cted.     And  thus  there   may  be  signi- 


PKIMITIVE    MEASUREMENTS    OF    TIME.  165 

ficance  in  the  remark  which  some  have  made,  that  alike 
in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  there  is  an  affinity  be- 
tween the  word  meaning  moon,  and  that  meaning  measure. 

This  fact,  that  in  very  early  stages  of  social  progress  it 
is  known  that  the  moon  goes  through  her  changes  in  about 
thirty  days,  and  that  in  about  twelve  moons  the  seasons 
return — this  fact  that  chronological  astronomy  assumes  a 
certain  scientific  character  even  before  geometry  does ; 
while  it  is  partly  due  to  the  circumstance  that  the  astro- 
nomical divisions,  day,  month,  and  year,  are  ready  made 
for  us,  is  partly  due  to  the  further  circumstances  that 
agricultural  and  other  operations  were  at  first  regulated 
astronomically,  and  that  from  the  supposed  divine  nature 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  their  motions  determined  the 
periodical  religious  festivals.  As  instances  of  the  one  we 
have  the  observation  of  the  Egyptians,  that  the  rising  of 
the  Nile  corresponded  with  the  heliacal  rising  of  Sirius  ; 
the  directions  given  by  Hesiod  for  reaping  and  ploughing, 
according  to  the  positions  of  the  Pleiades  ;  and  his  maxim 
that  '•  fifty  days  after  the  turning  of  the  sun  is  a  seasonable 
lime  for  beginning  a  voyage."  As  instances  of  the  other, 
we  have  the  naming  of  the  days  after  the  sun,  moon,  and 
planets ;  the  early  attempts  among  Eastern  nations  to 
regulate  the  calendar  so  that  the  gods  might  not  be  ofifend- 
ed  by  the  displacement  of  their  sacrifices ;  and  the  fix- 
ing of  the  great  annual  festival  of  the  Peruvians  by  the 
position  of  the  sun.  In  all  which  facts  we  see  that, 
at  first,  science  was  simply  an  apphance  of  religion  and 
industry. 

After  the  discoveries  that  a  lunation  occupies  nearly 
thirty  days,  and  that  some  tw^elve  lunations  occupy  a  year 
— discoveries  of  which  there  is  no  historical  account,  but 
which  may  be  inferred  as  the  earliest,  from  the  fact  that 
existing  unciviHzed  races  have  made  them — we  come  to 
the  first  known  astronomical  records,  which  are  those  of 


166  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

eclipses.  The  Chaldeans  were  able  to  predict  these. 
"  This  they  did,  probably,"  says  Dr.  Whewoll  in  his  useful 
history,  from  which  most  of  the  materials  we  are  about  to 
use  will  be  drawn,  "  by  means  of  their  cycle  of  223  months, 
or  about  eighteen  years ;  for  at  the  end  of  this  time,  the 
eclipses  of  the  moon  begin  to  return,  at  the  same  intervals 
and  in  the  same  order  as  at  the  beginning."  Now  this  meth- 
od of  calculating  eclipses  by  means  of  a  recurring  cycle, — 
the  Saros  as  they  called  it — is  a  more  complex  case  of  pre- 
vision by  means  of  coincidence  of  measures.  For  by  what 
observations  must  the  Chaldeans  have  discovered  this 
cycle  ?  Obviously,  as  Delambre  infers,  by  inspecting  their 
registers  ;  by  comparing  the  successive  intervals  ;  by  find- 
ing that  some  of  the  intervals  were  alike ;  by  seeing  that 
these  equal  intervals  were  eighteen  years  apart ;  by  discov- 
ering that  all  the  intervals  that  were  eighteen  years  apart 
were  equal ;  by  ascertaining  that  the  intervals  formed  a 
series  which  repeated  itself,  so  that  if  one  of  the  cycles  of 
intervals  were  superposed  on  another  the  divisions  would 
fit.  This  once  perceived,  and  it  manifestly  became  possi- 
ble to  use  the  cycle  as  a  scale  of  time  by  which  to  measure 
out  future  periods.  Seeing  thus  that  the  process  of  so  j^re- 
dicting  eclipses,  is  in  essence  the  same  as  that  of  predicting 
the  moon's  monthly  changes  by  observing  the  number  of 
days  after  which  they  repeat — seeing  that  the  two  difter 
only  in  the  extent  and  irregularity  of  the  intervals,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  understand  how  such  an  amount  of  knowledge 
should  so  early  have  been  reached.  And  wo  shall  be  less 
surprised,  on  remembering  that  the  only  things  involved 
in  these  previsions  were  time  and  number ;  and  that  the 
time  was  in  a  manner  self-numbered. 

Still,  the  ability  to  predict  events  recurring  only  after 
so  long  a  period  as  eighteen'  years,  implies  a  considerable 
advance  in  civilization — a  considerable  development  of  geu- 
ural  knowledge;  and  we  have  now  to  inquire  what  progress 


KNOWLEDGE    IMPLIED   BY   EARLY   ASTRONOMY.        167 

in  other  sciences  accompanied,  and  was  necessary  to,  these 
astronomical  previsions.  In  the  first  place,  there  must 
clearly  have  been  a  tolerably  efficient  system  of  calculation. 
Mere  finger-counting,  mere  head-reckoning,  even  with  the 
aid  of  a  regular  decimal  notation,  could  not  have  sufficed 
for  numbering  the  days  in  a  year ;  much  less  the  years, 
months,  and  days  between  eclipses.  Consequently  there 
must  have  been  a  mode  of  registering  numbers ;  probably 
even  a  system  of  numerals.  The  earliest  numerical  rec- 
ords, if  we  may  judge  by  the  practices  of  the  less  civilized 
races  now  existing,  were  probably  kept  by  notches  cut  on 
sticks,  or  strokes  marked  on  walls ;  much  as  public-house 
scores  are  kept  now.  And  there  seems  reason  to  believe 
that  the  first  numerals  used  were  simply  groups  of  straight 
strokes,  as  some  of  the  still-extant  Roman  ones  are ;  lead- 
ing us  to  suspect  that  these  groups  of  strokes  were  used  to 
represent  groups  of  fingers,  as  the  groups  of  fingers  had 
been  used  to  represent  groups  of  objects — a  supposition 
quite  in  conformity  with  the  aboriginal  system  of  picture 
writing  and  its  subsequent  modifications.  Be  this  so  or 
not,  however,  it  is  manifest  that  before  the  Chaldeans  dis- 
covered their  Saros,  there  must  have  been  both  a  set  of 
written  symbols  serving  for  an  extensive  numeration,  and 
a  familiarity  with  the  simpler  rules  of  arithmetic. 

Not  only  must  abstract  mathematics  have  made  some 
progress,  but  concrete  mathematics  also.  It  is  scarcely 
possible  that  the  buildings  belonging  to  this  era  should 
have  been  laid  out  and  erected  without  any  knowledge  of 
geometry.  At  any  rate,  there  must  have  existed  that  ele- 
mentary geometry  Avhich  deals  with  direct  measurement — 
with  the  apposition  of  lines ;  and  it  seems  that  only  after 
the  discovery  of  those  simple  proceedings,  by  which  right 
angles  are  drawn,  and  relative  positions  fixed,  could  so  reg- 
alar  an  architecture  be  execut(id.  In  the  case  of  the  other 
division  of  concrete  mathematics — mechanics,  we  have  defi- 


168  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

nite  evidenco  of  progress.  We  know  that  the  lever  and 
the  mclined  plane  were  employed  during  this  period :  im- 
plying that  there  was  a  qualitative  prevision  of  their  effects, 
though  not  a  quantitative  one.  But  we  know  more.  We 
read  of  weights  in  the  earliest  records ;  and  we  find  weights 
in  ruins  of  the  highest  antiquity.  Weights  imply  scales, 
of  which  we  have  also  mention ;  and  scales  involve  the 
primary  theorem  of  mechanics  in  its  least  complicated  form 
— involve  not  a  qualitative  but  a  quantitative  prevision  of 
mechanical  effects.  And  here  we  may  notice  how  mechan- 
ics, in  common  with  the  other  exact  sciences,  took  its  rise 
from  the  simplest  application  of  the  idea  of  equality.  For 
the  mechanical  proposition  which  the  scales  involve,  is,  that 
if  a  lever  with  equal  arms,  have  equal  weights  suspended 
from  them,  the  weights  will  remain  at  equal  altitudes. 
And  we  may  further  notice,  how,  in  this  first  step  of  ra- 
tional mechanics,  we  see  illustrated  that  truth  awhile  since 
referred  to,  that  as  magnitudes  of  linear  extension  are  the 
only  ones  of  which  the  equality  is  exactly  ascertainable,  the 
equalities  of  other  magnitudes  have  at  the  outset  to  be  de- 
termined by  means  of  them.  For  the  equahty  of  the 
weights  which  balance  each  other  in  scales,  wholly  depends 
upon  the  equality  of  the  arms :  we  can  know  that  the 
weights  are  equal  only  by  proving  that  the  arms  are  equal. 
And  when  by  this  means  we  have  obtained  a  system  of 
weights, — a  set  of  equal  nnits  of  force,  then  does  a  science 
of  mechanics  become  j^ossible.  Whence,  indeed,  it  follows, 
that  rational  mechanics  could  not  possibly  have  any  other 
starting-point  than  the  scales. 

Let  us  further  remember,  that  during  this  same  period 
there  was  a  limited  knowledge  of  chemistry.  The  many 
arts  which  we  know  to  have  been  carried  on  must  have 
been  impossible  without  a  generalized  experience  of  the 
modes  in  wfeich  certain  bodies  affect  each  other  under  spe- 
cial  conditions.      In   metallurgy,   which   was   extensively 


THE    IMPLICATIONS    OF    EAELY    ASTKONOIVIY.  169 

practised,  this  is  abundantly  illustrated.  And  we  even 
have  evidence  that  in  some  cases  the  knowledge  possessed 
was,  in  a  sense,  quantitative.  For,  as  we  find  by  analysis 
that  the  hard  alloy  of  which  the  Egyptians  made  their  cut- 
ting tools,  was  composed  of  copper  and  tin  in  fixed  pro- 
portions, there  must  have  been  an  established  prevision  that 
Buch  an  alloy  was  to  be  obtained  only  by  mixing  them  in 
these  proportions.  It  is  true,  this  was  but  a  simple  empiri- 
cal generalization ;  but  so  was  the  generalization  respecting 
the  recurrence  of  eclipses ;  so  are  the  first  generalizations 
of  every  science. 

Resj)ecting  the  simultaneous  advance  of  the  sciences 
during  this  early  epoch,  it  only  remains  to  remark  that 
even  the  most  comjDlex  of  them  must  have  made  some 
progress — perhaps  even  a  greater  relative  progress  than 
any  of  the  rest.  For  under  what  conditions  only  were  the 
foregoing  developments  possible  ?  There  first  required  an 
established  and  organized  social  system.  A  long  continued 
registry  of  eclipses ;  the  building  of  palaces ;  the  use  of 
scales ;  the  practice  of  metallurgy — alike  imply  a  fixed  and 
populous  nation.  The  existence  of  such  a  nation  not  only 
presupposes  laws,  and  some  administration  of  justice,  which 
we  know  existed,  but  it  presupposes  successful  laws — laws 
conforming  in  some  degree  to  the  conditions  of  social  sta- 
bility— laws  enacted  because  it  was  seen  that  the  actions 
forbidden  by  them  were  dangerous  to  the  State.  We  do 
not  by  any  means  say  that  all,  or  even  the  greater  part,  of 
the  laws  were  of  this  nature  ;  but  we  do  say,  that  the  fun- 
damental ones  were.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  laws 
afiecting  life  and  property  were  such.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that,  however  little  these  were  enforced  between  class  and 
class,  they  were  to  a  considerable  extent  enforced  between 
members  of  the  same  class.  It  can  scarcely  be  questioned, 
that  the  administration  of  them  between  members  of  the 
same  class  was  seen  by  rulers  to  be  necessary  for  keeping 
8 


170  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

their  subjects  together.  And  knowing,  as  we  do,  that, 
other  things  equal,  nations  prosper  in  proportion  to  the 
justness  of  their  arrangements,  we  may  fairly  infer  that 
the  very  cause  of  the  advance  of  these  earliest  nations  out 
of  aboriginal  barbarism,  was  the  greater  recognition  among 
them  of  the  claims  to  life  and  property. 

But  sujDposition  aside,  it  is  clear  that  the  habitual  recog- 
nition of  these  claims  in  their  laws,  implied  some  prevision 
of  social  phenomena.  Even  thus  early  there  was  a  certain 
amount  of  social  science.  Nay,  it  may  even  be  shown  that 
there  was  a  vague  recognition  of  that  fundamental  princi- 
ple on  which  all  the  true  social  science  is  based — the  equal 
rights  of  all  to  the  free  exercise  of  their  faculties.  That 
same  idea  of  equality^  which,  as  we  have  seen,  underlies 
all  other  science,  underlies  also  morals  and  sociology.  The 
conception  of  justice,  which  is  the  primary  one  in  morals  ; 
and  the  administration  of  justice,  which  is  the  vital  condi- 
tion of  social  existence ;  are  impossible,  without  the  recog- 
nition of  a  certain  likeness  in  men's  claims,  in  virtue  of  their 
common  humanity.  Equity  literally  means  equalness  /  and 
if  it  be  admitted  that  there  were  even  the  vaguest  ideas  of 
equity  in  these  primitive  eras,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
there  was  some  appreciation  of  the  equalness  of  men's  lib- 
erties to  pursue  the  objects  of  life — some  appreciation, 
therefore,  of  the  essential  principle  of  national  equilibrium. 

Thus  in  this  initial  stage  of  the  positive  sciences,  before 
geometry  had  yet  done  more  than  evolve  a  few  empirical 
rules — before  mechanics  had  passed  beyond  its  first  theo- 
rem— before  astronomy  had  advanced  from  its  merely  chro- 
nological phase  into  the  geometrical ;  the  most  involved  of 
the  sciences  had  reached  a  certain  degree  of  development 
— a  develo^Dment  without  which  no  progress  in  other  sci- 
ences was  possible. 

Only  noting  as  we  j^ass,  how,  thus  early,  we  may  see 
that  the  progress  of  exact  science  was  not  only  towards  an 


ORIGIN   OF    GEOMETRICAL    ASTRONOMY.  171 

increasiug  number  of  previsions,  bat  towards  previsions 
more  accurately  quantitative — how,  in  astronomy,  the  re- 
curring period  of  the  moon's  motions  was  by  and  by  more 
correctly  ascertained  to  be  nineteen  years,  or  two  hundred 
and  thirty-five  lunations ;  how  Callipus  further  corrected 
this  Metonic  cycle,  by  leaving  out  a  day  at  the  end  of  every 
seventy-six  years ;  and  how  these  successive  advances  im 
pliecl  a  longer  continued  registry  of  observations,  and  the 
co-ordination  of  a  greater  number  of  facts — let  us  go  on  to 
inquire  how  geometrical  astronomy  took  its  rise. 

The  first  astronomical  instrument  was  the  gnomon 
This  was  not  only  early  in  use  in  the  East,  but  it  was  found 
also  among  the  Mexicans ;  the  sole  astronomical  observa- 
tions of  the  Peruvians  were  made  by  it ;  and  we  read  that 
1100  B.C.,  the  Chinese  found  that,  at  a  certain  place,  the 
length  of  the  sun's  shadow,  at  the  summer  solstice,  was  to 
the  height  of  the  gnomon,  as  one  and  a  half  to  eight. 
Here  again  it  is  observable,  not  only  that  the  instrument  is 
found  ready  made,  but  that  Nature  is  perpetually  perform- 
ing the  process  of  measurement.  Any  fixed,  erect  object 
— a  column,  a  dead  palm,  a  pole,  the  angle  of  a  building — 
serves  for  a  gnomon  ;  and  it  needs  but  to  notice  the  chang- 
ing position  of  the  shadow  it  daily  throws,  to  make  the 
first  step  in  geometrical  astronomy.  How  small  this  first 
step  was,  may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  the  only  things  as- 
certained at  the  outset  were  the  periods  of  the  summer 
and  winter  solstices,  which  corresponded  with  the  least  and 
greatest  lengths  of  the  mid-day  shadow ;  and  to  fix  which, 
it  was  needful  merely  to  mark  the  point  to  w^hich  each 
day's  shadow  reached. 

And  now  let  it  not  be  overlooked  that  in  the  observing 
at  what  time  during  the  next  year  this  extreme  limit  of  the 
i^hadow  was  again  reached,  and  in  the  inference  that  the 
sun  had  then  arrived  at  the  same  turning  point  in  his  an- 
Qual  course,  we  have  one  of  the  simplest  instances  of  tliat 


172  THE    GENESIS    OF   SCIENCE. 

combined  use  of  equal  magnitudes  and  equal  relations^  by 
which  all  exact  science,  all  quantitative  prevision,  is  reached. 
For  the  relation  observed  was  between  the  length  of  the 
sun's  shadow  and  his  position  in  the  heavens ;  and  the  in- 
ference drawn  was  that  when,  next  year,  the  extremity  of 
his  shadow  came  to  the  same  point,  he  occupied  the  same 
place.  That  is,  the  ideas  involved  were,  the  equality  of  the 
shadows,  and  the  equality  of  the  relations  between  shadow 
and  sun  in  successive  years.  As  in  the  case  of  the  scales, 
the  equality  of  relations  here  recognized  is  of  the  simplest 
order.  It  is  not  as  those  habitually  dealt  with  in  the  higher 
kinds  of  scientific  reasoning,  which  answer  to  the  general 
type — the  relation  between  two  and  three  equals  the  rela- 
tion between  six  and  nine  ;  but  it  follows  the  type — ^the  re- 
lation between  two  and  three,  equals  the  relation  between 
two  and  three  ;  it  is  a  case  of  not  simply  equal  relations, 
but  coinciding  relations.  And  here,  indeed,  we  may  see 
beautifully  illustrated  how  the  idea  of  equal  relations  takes 
its  rise  after  the  same  manner  that  that  of  equal  magnitude 
does.  As  already  shown,  the  idea  of  equal  magnitudes 
arose  from  the  observed  coincidence  of  two  lengths  placed 
together ;  and  in  this  case  we  have  not  only  two  coincident 
lengths  of  shadows,  but  two  coincident  relations  between 
sun  and  shadows. 

From  the  use  of  the  gnomon  there  naturally  grew  up 
the  conception  of  angular  measurements ;  and  with  the 
advance  of  geometrical  conceptions  there  came  the  hemi- 
sphere of  Berosus,  the  equinoctial  armil,  the  solstitial  armil, 
and  the  quadrant  of  Ptolemy — all  of  them  employing  shad- 
ows as  indices  of  the  sun's  position,  but  in  combination 
with  angular  divisions.  It  is  obviously  out  of  the  question 
for  us  here  to  trace  these  details  of  progress.  It  must  suf- 
fice to  remark  that  in  all  of  them  we  may  see  that  notion 
of  equality  of  relations  of  a  more  complex  kind,  which  is 
l)es?t  illusti-ated  in  the  astrolabe,  an  instrument  which  con* 


PEOGEESS    OF   GEOMETRICAL   ASTKONOISIY.  1T3 

(sisted  "  of  circular  rims,  moveable  one  within  the  other,  or 
about  poles,  and  contained  circles  which  were  to  be  brought 
into  the  position  of  the  eclii:>tic,  and  of  a  plane  passing 
through  the  sun  and  the  poles  of  the  ecliptic  " — an  instru- 
ment, therefore,  which  represented,  as  by  a  model,  the  rel- 
ative positions  of  certain  imaginary  lines  and  planes  in  th<^ 
heavens ;  which  was  adjusted  by  j^utting  these  representa- 
tive lines  and  planes  into  parallelism  and  coincidence  with 
the  celestial  ones ;  and  which  depended  for  its  use  upon  the 
perception  that  the  relations  between  these  representative 
lines  and  planes  were  equal  to  the  relations  between  those 
represented. 

Were  there  space,  we  might  go  on  to  point  out  how  the 
conception  of  the  heavens  as  a  revolving  hollow  sphere, 
the  discovery  of  the  globular  form  of  the  earth,  the  expla- 
nation of  the  moon's  phases,  and  indeed  all  the  successive 
steps  taken,  involved  this  same  mental  process.  But  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  referring  to  the  theory  of  ec- 
centrics and  epicycles,  as  a  further  marked  illustration  of 
it.  As  first  suggested,  and  as  proved  by  Hipparchus  to  af- 
ford an  explanation  of  the  leading  irregularities  in  the  ce- 
lestial motions,  this  theory  involved  the  perception  that 
the  progressions,  retrogressions,  and  variations  of  velocity 
seen  in  the  heavenly  bodies,  might  be  reconciled  with  their 
assumed  uniform  movement  in  circles,  by  supposing  that 
the  earth  was  not  in  the  centre  of  their  orbits  ;  or  by  sup- 
posing that  they  revolved  in  circles  whose  centres  revolved 
round  the  earth  ;  or  by  both.  The  discovery  that  this 
would  account  for  the  appearances,  was  the  discovery  that 
in  certain  geometrical  diagrams  the  relations  were  such, 
that  the  uniform  motion  of  a  point  would,  when  looked  at 
from  a  particular  position,  present  analogous  irregularities ; 
and  the  calculations  of  Hipparchus  involved  the  belief  that  the 
relations  subsisting  among  these  geometrical  curves  were 
tqucJ,  to  the  relations  subsisting  among  the  celestial  orbits. 


174:  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

Leaving  here  these  details  of  astronomical  progress,  and 
the  philosoj^hy  of  it,  let  us  observe  how  the  relatively  con- 
crete science  of  geometrical  astronomy,  having  been  thus 
far  he]23ed  forward  by  the  development  of  geometry  in  gen- 
eral, reacted  upon  geometry,  caused  it  also  to  advance,  and 
was  again  assisted  by  it.  Hipparchus,  before  making  hi^: 
solar  and  lunar  tables,  had  to  discover  rules  for  calculating 
the  relations  between  the  sides  and  auQ-les  of  trianorles — 
trigonometry  a  subdivision  of  pure  mathematics.  Further, 
the  reduction  of  the  doctrine  of  the  sphere  to  the  quanti- 
tative form  needed  for  astronomical  purposes,  required  the 
formation  of  a  spherical  trigonometry^  which  was  also 
achieved  by  Hipparchus.  Thus  both  plane  and  spherical 
trigonometry,  which  are  parts  of  the  highly  abstract  and 
simple  science  of  extension,  remained  undeveloped  until 
the  less  abstract  and  more  complex  science  of  the  celestial 
motions  had  need  of  them.  The  fact  admitted  by  M. 
Comte,  that  since  Descartes  the  progress  of  the  abstract 
division  of  mathematics  has  been  determined  by  that  of 
the  concrete  division,  is  paralleled  by  the  still  more  signifi- 
cant fact  that  even  thus  early  the  progress  of  mathematics 
was  determined  by  that  of  astronomy. 

And  here,  indeed,  we  may  see  exemplified  the  truth, 
tvhich  the  subsequent  history  of  science  frequently  illus- 
trates, that  before  any  more  abstract  division  makes  a  fur- 
ther advance,  some  more  concrete  division  must  suggest 
the  necessity  for  that  advance — must  present  the  new  order 
of  questions  to  be  solved.  Before  astronomy  presented 
Hipparchus  with  the  problem  of  solar  tables,  there  was 
nothing  to  raise  the  question  of  the  relations  between  lines 
and  angles ;  the  subject-matter  of  trigonometry  had  not 
been  conceived.  And  as  there  must  be  subject-matter  be- 
fore there  can  be  investigation,  it  follows  that  the  progress 
of  the  concrete  divisions  is  as  necessary  to  that  of  the  al> 
etiact,  as  the  progress  of  the  abstract  to  that  of  the  concrete. 


EYCLTJTION   OF   ALGEBRA   AND   MECHANICS.  175 

Just  incidentally  noticing  the  circumstance  that  the 
epoch  we  are  describing  witnessed  the  evolution  of  algebra, 
a  comi^aratively  abstract  division  of  mathematics,  by  the 
union  of  its  less  absti^act  divisions,  geometry  and  arithme- 
tic— a  fact  proved  by  the  earliest  extant  samples  of  alge- 
bra, which  are  half  algebraic,  half  geometric — we  go  on  to 
observe  that  during  the  era  in  which  mathematics  and 
astronomy  were  thus  advancing,  rational  mechanics  made 
its  second  step  ;  and  something  was  done  towards  giving  a 
quantitative  form  to  hydrostatics,  optics,  and  harmonics. 
In  each  case  we  shall  see  as  before,  how  the  idea  of  equal- 
ity underlies  all  quantitative  prevision  ;  and  in  what  simple 
forms  this  idea  is  first  applied. 

As  already  shown,  the  first  theorem  established  in  me- 
chanics was,  that  equal  weights  suspended  from  a  lever  with 
equal  arms  would  remain  in  equilibrium.  Archimedes  dis- 
covered that  a  lever  with  unequal  arms  was  in  equilibrium 
when  one  weight  was  to  its  arm  as  the  other  arm  to  its 
weight ;  that  is— rwhen  the  numerical  relation  between  one 
weight  and  its  arm  was  equal  to  the  numerical  relation  be- 
tween the  other  arm  and  its  weight. 

The  first  advance  made  in  hydrostatics,  which  we  also 
owe  to  Archimedes,  was  the  discovery  that  fluids  press 
equally  in  all  directions ;  and  from  this  followed  the  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  of  floating  bodies :  namely,  that  they 
are  in  equilibrium  when  the  upward  and  doAvnward  pres- 
sures are  equal. 

In  optics,  again,  the  Greeks  found  that  the  angle  of  in- 
cidence is  equal  to  the  angle  of  reflection ;  and  their  knowl- 
edge reached  no  further  than  to  such  simple  deductions 
from  this  as  their  geometry  sufficed  for.  In  harmonics 
they  ascertained  the  fact  that  three  strings  of  equal  lengths 
■would  yield  the  octave,  fifth  and  fourth,  when  strained  by 
weights  having  certain  definite  ratios ;  and  they  did  not 
progress  much  beyond  this.    In  the  one  of  which  cases  we 


iY6  '  THE   GENESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

see  geometry  used  in  elucidation  of  t"he  laws  of  light ;  and 
in  the  other,  geometry  and  arithmetic  made  to  measure  the 
phenomena  of  sound. 

Did  space  permit,  it  would  be  desirable  here  to  de- 
scribe the  state  of  the  less  advanced  sciences — to  point  out 
how,  while  a  few  had  thus  reached  the  first  stages  of  quan- 
titative prevision,  the  rest  were  progressing  in  qualitative 
prevision — how  some  small  generalizations  were  made  re- 
specting evaporation,  and  heat,  and  electricity,  and  mag- 
netism, which,  empirical  as  they  were,  did  not  in  that  re- 
spect differ  from  the  first  generalizations  of  every  science — 
how  the  Greek  physicians  had  made  advances  in  physiology 
and  pathology,  which,  considering  the  great  imperfection 
of  our  present  knowledge,  are  by  no  means  to  be  despised 
— how  zoology  had  been  so  far  systematized  by  Aristotle, 
as,  to  some  extent,  enabled  him  from  the  presence  of  cer- 
tain organs  to  predict  the  presence  of  others — how  in  Aris- 
totle's Politics,  there  is  some  progress  towards  a  scientific 
conception  of  social  phenomena,  and  sundry  previsions  re- 
specting them — and  how  in  the  state  of  the  Greek  socie- 
ties, as  well  as  in  the  writings  of  Greek  philosophers,  we 
may  recognise  not  only  an  increasing  clearness  in  that  con- 
ception of  equity  on  which  the  social  science  is  based,  but 
also  some  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  social  stability  de- 
pends upon  the  maintenance  of  equitable  regulations.  We 
might  dwell  at  length  upon  the  causes  which  retarded  the 
development  of  some  of  the  sciences,  as  for  example,  chemis- 
try ;  showing  that  relative  complexity  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it — that  the  oxidation  of  a  piece  of  iron  is  a  simpler 
phenomenon  than  the  recurrence  of  eclipses,  and  the  dis- 
covery of  carbonic  acid  less  difficult  than  that  of  the  pre- 
cession of  the  equinoxes — but  that  the  relatively  slow  ad- 
vance of  chemical  knowledge  was  due,  partly  to  the  fact 
that  its  phenomena  were  not  daily  thrust  on  men's  notice 
as  those  of  astronomy  were  ;  partly  to  the  fact  that  Nature 


WHY    CHEMISTRY   DEVELOPED    SO    SLOWLY.  1Y7 

does  not  habitually  supply  the  means,  and  suggest  the 
modes  of  investigation,  as  in  the  sciences  dealing  with  time 
extension,  and  force  ;  and  partly  to  the  fact  that  the  great 
majority  of  the  materials  with  which  chemistry  deals,  in 
stead  of  being  ready  to  hand,  are  made  known  only  by  thf 
arts  in  their  slow  growth  ;  and  partly  to  the  fact  that  even 
when  known,  their  chemical  properties  are  not  self-exhibit 
ed,  but  have  to  be  sought  out  by  experiment. 

Merely  indicating  all  these  considerations,  however,  let 
us  go  on  to  contemplate  the  progress  and  mutual  influence 
of  the  sciences  in  modern  days ;  only  parenthetically  no- 
ticing how,  on  the  revival  of  the  scientific  spirit,  the  suc- 
cessive stages  achieved  exhibit  the  dominance  of  the  same 
law  hitherto  traced — how  the  primary  idea  in  dynamics,  a 
uniform  force,  was  defined  by  Galileo  to  be  a  force  Avhich 
generates  equal  velocities  in  equal  successive  times — how 
the  uniform  action  of  gravity  w^as  first  experimentally  de- 
termined by  showing  that  the  time  elapsing  before  a  body 
thrown  up,  stopped,  was  equal  to  the  time  it  took  to  fall — 
how  the  first  fact  in  compound  motion  which  Galileo  ascer- 
tained w^as,  that  a  body  projected  horizontally  will  have  a 
uniform  motion  onwards  and  a  uniformly  accelerated  mo- 
tion downwards ;  that  is,  will  describe  equal  horizontal 
spaces  in  equal  times,  compounded  with  equal  vertical  in- 
crements in  equal  times — how  his  discovery  respecting  the 
pendulum  was,  that  its  oscillations  occupy  equal  intervals 
of  time  whatever  their  length — how  the  principle  of  virtual 
velocities  which  he  established  is,  that  in  any  machine  the 
weights  that  balance  each  other,  are  reciprocally  as  their 
virtual  velocities  ;  that  is,  the  relation  of  one  set  of  weights 
to  their  velocities  equals  the  relation  of  the  other  set  of 
v^elocities  to  their  weights ; — and  how  'thus  his  achieve- 
ments consisted  in  showing  the  equalities  of  certain  magni- 
tudes and  relations,  whose  equalities  had  not  been  pre* 
viously  recognised. 


178  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

When  mechanics  had  reached  the  point  to  which  Galileo 
brought  it — when  the  simple  laws  of  force  had  been  dis- 
entangled from  the  friction  and  atmospheric  resistance  by 
which  all  their  earthly  manifestations  are  disguised — when 
progressing  knowledge  of />Ayszcs  had  given  a  due  insight 
into  these  disturbing  causes — when,  by  an  effort  of  abstrac- 
tion, it  was  perceived  that  all  motion  would  be  uniform 
and  rectilinear  unless  interfered  with  by  external  forces — 
and  when  the  various  consequences  of  this  perception  had 
been  worked  out ;  then  it  became  possible,  by  the  union  of 
geometry  and  mechanics,  to  initiate  physical  astronomy. 
Geometry  and  mechanics  having  diverged  from  a  common 
root  in  men's  sensible  experiences  ;  having,  with  occasional 
inosculations,  been  separately  developed,  the  one  partly  in 
connexion  with  astronomy,  the  other  solely  by  analyzing 
terrestrial  movements  ;  now  join  in  the  investigations  of 
Xewton  to  create  a  true,  theory  of  the  celestial  motions. 
And  here,  also,  we  have  to  notice  the  important  fact  that, 
in  the  very  process  of  being  brought  jointly  to  bear  upon 
astronomical  problems,  they  are  themselves  raised  to  a 
higher  phase  of  development.  For  it  was  in  dealing  with 
the  questions  raised  by  celestial  dynamics  that  the  then 
incipient  infinitesimal  calculus  was  unfolded  by  Newton  and 
his  continental  successors ;  and  it  was  from  inquiries  into 
the  mechanics  of  the  solar  system  that  the  general  theorems 
of  mechanics  contained  in  the  "  Principia," — many  of  them 
of  purely  terrestrial  application — took  their  rise.  Thus,  as 
in  the  case  of  Hipparchus,  the  presentation  of  a  new  order 
of  concrete  flicts  to  be  analyzed,  led  to  the  discovery  of 
new  abstract  facts ;  and  these  abstract  facts  having  been 
/aid  hold  of,  gave  means  of  access  to  endless  groups 
of  concrete  facts'  before  incapable  of  quantitative  treat- 
ment. 

Meanwhile,  physics  had  been  carrymg  further  that  pro- 
gress  without  which,  as  just  shown,    rational    mechanicf? 


PROGRESS    OF   PHYSICS. 


1Y9 


could  not  be  disentangled.  In  hydrostatics,  Stevinus  had 
extended  and  applied  the  discovery  of  Archimedes.  Tor 
ricelli  had  proved  atmospheric  pressure,  "  by  showing  that 
this  pressure  sustained  different  liquids  at  heights  inversely 
proportional  to  their  densities  ;  "  and  Pascal  "  established 
the  necessary  diminution  of  this  pressure  at  increasing 
heights  in  the  atmosphere  :  "  discoveries  which  in  part 
reduced  this  branch  of  science  to  a  quantitative  form. 
Something  had  been  done  by  Daniel  Bernouilli  towards 
the  dynamics  of  fluids.  The  thermometer  had  been  invent- 
ed ;  and  a  number  of  small  generalizations  reached  by  it. 
Huyghens  and  Newton  had  made  considerable  progress  in 
optics ;  Newton  had  approximately  calculated  the  rate  of 
transmission  of  sound ;  and  the  continental  mathematicians 
had  succeeded  in  determining  some  of  the  laws  of  sonorous 
vibrations.  Magnetism  and  electricity  had  been  consid- 
erably advanced  by  Gilbert.  Chemistry  had  got  as  far  as 
the  mutual  neutralization  of  acids  and  alkalies.  And 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  had  advanced  in  geology  to  the  con- 
ception of  the  deposition  of  marine  strata  as  the  origin 
of  fossils.  Our  present  purpose  does  not  require  that 
we  should  give  particulars.  All  that  it  here  concerns  us 
to  do  is  to  illustrate  the  conse?isus  subsisting  in  this  stage 
of  growth,  and  afterwards.      Lot  as  look  at  a  few  cases. 

The  theoretic  law  of  the  velocity  of  sound  enunciated 
by  Newton  on  purely  mechanical  considerations,  was  found 
wrong  by  one-sixth.  The  error  remained  unaccounted  for 
until  the  time  of  Laplace,  who,  suspecting  that  the  heat 
disengaged  by  the  compression  of  the  undulating  strata  of 
the  air,  gave  additional  elasticity,  and  so  produced  the 
difference,  made  the  needful  calculations  and  found  he  was 
right.  Thus  acoustics  was  arrested  until  thermology  over- 
took and  aided  it.  When  Boyle  and  Marriot  had  discov- 
ered the  relation  between  the  density  of  gases  and  the 
pressures  they  are  subject  to ;   and  when  it  thus  became 


180  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

possible  to  calculate  the  rate  of  decreasing  density  iu  the 
U2:»per  parts  of  the  atmosphere  ;  it  also  became  possible  to 
make  approximate  tables  of  the  atmospheric  refraction  of 
light.  Thus  optics,  and  with  it  astronomy,  advanced  with 
barology.  After  the  discovery  of  atmospheric  pressure 
had  led  to  the  invention  of  the  air-pump  by  Otto  Guericke; 
and  after  it  had  become  known  that  evaporation  increases 
in  rapidity  as  atmospheric  pressure  decreases ;  it  became 
possible  for  Leslie,  by  evaporation  in  a  vacuum,  to  produce 
the  greatest  cold  known ;  and  so  to  extend  our  knowledge 
of  thermology  by  showing  that  there  is  no  zero  within 
reach  of  our  researches.  When  Fourier  had  determined 
the  laws  of  conduction  of  heat,  and  when  the  Earth's  tem- 
perature had  been  found  to  increase  below  the  surface 
one  degree  in  every  forty  yards,  there  were  data  for  in- 
ferring the  past  condition  of  our  globe ;  the  vast  period 
it  has  taken  to  cool  down  to  its  present  state;  and  the 
immense  age  of  the  solar  system — a  purely  astronomical 
consideration. 

Chemistry  having  advanced  sufficiently  to  supply  the 
needful  materials,  and  a  physiological  experiment  having 
furnished  the  requisite  hint,  there  came  the  discovery  of 
galvanic  electricity.  Galvanism  reacting  on  chemistry  dis- 
closed the  metalHc  bases  of  the  alkalies,  and  inaugurated 
the  electro-chemical  theory  ;  in  the  hands  of  Oersted  and 
Ampere  it  led  to  the  laws  of  magnetic  action  ;  and  by  its 
aid  Faraday  has  detected  significant  facts  relative  to  the 
constitution  of  light.  Brewster's  discoveries  respecting 
double  refraction  and  dipoiarization  proved  the  essential 
truth  of  the  classification  of  crystalline  forms  according  to 
the  number  of  axes,  by  showing  that  the  molecular  con- 
stitution depends  upon  the  axes.  In  these  and  in  numer- 
ous other  cases,  the  mutual  influence  of  the  sciences  has 
been  quite  independent  of  any  supposed  hierarchical  order. 
Often,  too,  their  inter-actions  are  more  complex  than  as 


ADVANCE    OF    ELECTEICAL   THEORY.  181 

thus  instanced — involve  more  sciences  than  two.  One 
illustration  of  this  must  suffice.  We  quote  it  in  full  from 
the  History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences.  In  Book  XI.,  chap. 
11.,  on  "The  Progress  of  the  Electrical  Theory,"  Dr 
Whewell  writes : — 

"  Thus  at  that  period,  mathematics  was  behind  experiment, 
and  a  problem  was  proposed,  in  which  theoretical  results  were 
wanted  for  comparison  with  observation,  but  could  not  be  ac- 
curately obtained ;  as  was  the  case  in  astronomy  also,  till  the  time 
of  the  approximate  solution  of  the  problem  of  three  bodies,  and 
the  consequent  formation  of  the  tables  of  the  moon  and  planets, 
on  the  theory  of  universal  gravitation.  After  some  time,  elec- 
trical theory  was  relieved  from  this  reproach,  mainly  in  conse- 
quence of  the  progress  which  astronomy  had  occasioned  in  pure 
mathematics.  About  1801  there  appeared  in  the  Bulletin  des 
Sciences^  an  exact  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  distribution  of 
electric  fluid  on  a  spheroid,  obtained  by  Biot,  by  the  application 
of  the  peculiar  methods  which  Laplace  had  invented  for  the  prob- 
lem of  the  figure  of  the  planets.  And,  in  1811,  M.  Poisson  applied 
Laplace's  artifices  to  the  case  of  two  spheres  acting  upon  one 
another  in  contact,  a  case  to  which  many  of  Coulomb's  experi- 
ments were  referrible ;  and  the  agreement  of  the  results  of 
theory  and  observation,  thus  extricated  from  Coulomb's  num- 
bers obtained  above  forty  years  previously,  was  very  striking  and 
convincing." 

TvTot  only  do  the  sciences  affect  each  other  after  this 
direct  manner,  but  they  affect  each  other  indirectly. 
Where  there  is  no  dependence,  there  is  yet  analogy — 
equality  of  relations ;  and  the  discovery  of  the  relations 
subsisting  among  one  set  of  phenomena,  constantly  sug- 
gests a  search  for  the  same  relations  among  another  set. 
Thus  the  established  fact  that  the  force  of  gravitation  varies 
mversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance,  being  recognized  as 
a  necessary  characteristic  of  all  influences  proceeding  from 
a  centre,  raised  the  suspicion  that  heat  and  light  follow  the 
same  law  ;  which  proved  to  be  the  case — a  suspicion  and  a 


182  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

confirmation  which,  were  repea-ted  in  respect  to  the  electric 
and  magnetic  forces.  Thus  again  the  discovery  of  the 
polarization  of  light  led  to  experiments  which  ended  in  the 
discovery  of  the  polarization  of  heat — a  discovery  that 
could  never  have  been  made  without  the  antecedem 
one.  Thus,  too,  the  known  refrangibility  of  light  and 
heat  lately  produced  the  inquiry  whether  sound  also  is  not 
refrangible ;  which  on  trial  it  turns  out  to  be. 

In  some  cases,  indeed,  it  is  only  by  the  aid  of  concep- 
tions derived  from  one  class  of  phenomena  that  hypoth- 
eses respecting  other  classes  can  be  formed.  The  theory, 
at  one  time  favoured,  that  evaporation  is  a  solution  of 
water  in  air,  was  an  assumption  that  the  relation  between 
water  and  air  is  like  the  relation  between  salt  and  water ; 
and  could  never  have  been  conceived  if  the  relation  be- 
tween salt  and  water  had  not  been  previously  known. 
Similarly  the  received  theory  of  evaporation — that  it  is  a 
diffusion  of  the  particles  of  the  evaporating  fluid  in  virtue 
of  their  atomic  repulsion — could  not  have  been  entertained 
without  a  foregoing  experience  of  magnetic  and  electric 
repulsions.  So  complete  in  recent  days  has  become  this 
consensus  among  the  sciences,  caused  either  by  the  natural 
entanglement  of  their  phenomena,  or  by  analogies  in  the 
relations  of  their  phenomena,  that  scarcely  any  consider- 
able discovery  concerning  one  order  of  facts  now  takes 
place,  without  very  shortly  leading  to  discoveries  concern- 
mg  other  orders. 

To  produce  a  tolerably  complete  conception  of  this  pro- 
cess of  scientific  evolution,  it  would  be  needful  to  go  back 
to  the  beginning,  and  trace  in  detail  the  growth  of  classifi- 
cations and  nomenclatures ;  and  to  show  how,  as  subsidiary 
to  science,  they  have  acted  upon  it,  and  it  has  reacted  upon 
them.  We  can  only  now  remark  that,  on  the  one  hand, 
classifications  and  nomenclatures  have  aided  science  by  con* 
liimnlly  subdividing  the  subject-matter  of  research,  and  giv- 


TROGRESS    OF    SCIENTIFIC    CLASSIFICATION.  183 

mg  fixity  and  diffusion  to  the  truths  disclosed ;  and  that  on 
the  other  hand,  they  have  caught  from  it  that  increasing 
quantitativeness,  and  that  progress  from  considerations 
touching  single  phenomena  to  considerations  touching  the 
relations  among  many  phenomena,  which  we  have  been  de 
scribing. 

Of  this  last  influence  a  few  illustrations  must  be  given. 
In  chemistry  it  is  seen  in  the  facts,  that  the  dividing  of  mat- 
ter into  the  four  elements  was  ostensibly  based  upon  the 
single  property  of  weight ;  that  the  first  truly  chemical  di- 
vision into  acid  and  alkaline  bodies,  grouped  together  bod- 
ies which  had  not  simply  one  property  in  common,  but  in 
which  one  property  was  constantly  related  to  many  others  ; 
and  that  the  classification  now  current,  places  together  in 
groups  supporters  of  combustion^  metallic  and  ^ion-metallic 
bases,  acids,  salts,  &c.,  bodies  which  are  often  quite  unlike 
in  sensible  qualities,  but  which  are  like  in  the  majority  of 
their  relations  to  other  bodies.  In  mineralogy  again, 
the  first  classifications  were  based  upon  differences  in  as- 
pect, texture,  and  other  physical  attributes.  Berzelius 
made  two  attempts  at  a  classification  based  solely  on  chem- 
ical constitution.  That  now  current,  recognises  as  far  as 
possible  the  relations  between  physical  and  chemical  char- 
acters. In  botany  the  earliest  classes  formed  were  trees, 
shrubs,  and  herbs  :  magnitude  being  the  basis  of  distinction. 
Dioscorides  divided  vegetables  into  aromatic,  alimeyitary, 
medicinal,  and  vinous :  sl  division  of  chemical  character. 
Ca3salpinus  classified  them  by  the  seeds,  and  seed-vessels, 
which  he  preferred  because  of  tne  relations  found  to  sub- 
sist between  the  character  of  the  fructification  and  the 
general  character  of  the  other  parts. 

While  the  "natural  system"  since  developed,  carrying  out 
the  doctrine  of  Linnseus,  that  "  natural  orders  must  be  formed 
by  attention  not  to  one  or  two,  but  to  all  the  parts  of  plants," 
bases  its  divisions  on  like   peculiarities  which   are  found 


184  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

to  be  constantly  related  to  the  greatest  number  of  other 
like  peculiarities.  And  similarly  in  zoology,  the  successive 
classifications,  from  having  been  originally  determined  by 
external  and  often  subordmate  characters  not  indicative  of 
the  essential  nature,  have  been  gradually  more  and  more 
determined  by  those  internal  and  fundamental  differences, 
which  have  MmioYm.relations  to  the  greatest  number  of  other 
differences.  Xor  shall  we  be  surprised  at  this  analogy  between 
the  modes  of  progress  of  positive  science  and  classification, 
when  we  bear  in  mind  that  both  proceed  by  making  gener- 
alizations ;  that  both  enable  us  to  make  previsions  differing 
only  in  their  precision ;  and  that  while  the  one  deals  with 
equal  properties  and  relations,  the  other  deals  with  proper- 
ties and  relations  that  approximate  towards  equality  in  var- 
iable degrees. 

Without  further  argument,  it  will,  we  think,  be  suffi- 
ciently clear  that  the  sciences  are  none  of  them  separately 
evolved — are  none  of  them  independent  either  logically  or 
historically ;  but  that  all  of  them  have,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  required  aid  and  reciprocated  it.  Indeed,  it  needs 
but  to  throw  aside  theses,  and  contemj^late  the  mixed  char- 
acter of  surrounding  phenomena,  to  at  once  see  that  these 
notions  of  division  and  succession  in  the  kinds  of  knowledge 
are  none  of  them  actually  true,  but  are  simple  scientific 
fictions  good,  if  regarded  merely  as  aids  to  study  ;  bad, 
if  regarded  as  representing  realities  in  Nature.  Considef 
them  critically,  and  no  facts  whatever  are  presented  to  our 
senses  uncombined  with  other  facts — no  facts  whatever  but 
are  in  some  degree  disguised  by  accompanying  facts : 
disguised  in  such  a  manner  that  all  must  be  partially  under- 
stood before  any  one  can  be  understood.  If  it  be  said,  as 
by  M.  Comte,  that  gra^-itating  force  should  be  treated  of 
before  other  forces,  seeing  that  all  things  are  subject  to  it, 
it  may  on  like  grounds  be  said  that  heat  should  be  first 
dealt  with ;  seeing  that  thermal  forces  are  everywhere  in 


ITS   DIVISIONS   ISmST   ADVANCE   TOGETHER.  185 

action  ;  that  the  ability  of  any  portion  of  matter  to  mani 

fest  visible  gravitative  phenomena  depends  on  its  state  of 
aggregation,  which  is  determined  by  heat ;  that  only  by 
the  aid  of  thermology  can  we  explain  those  apparent  ex- 
ceptions to  the  gravitating  tendency  which  are  presented 
by  steam  and  smoke,  and  so  establish  its  universality,  and 
that,  indeed,  the  very  existence  of  the  solar  system  in  a  sol- 
id form  is  just  as  much  a  question  of  heat  as  it  is  one  of 
gravitation. 

Take  other  cases : — All  phenomena  recognised  by  tho 
eyes,  through  which  only  are  the  data  of  exact  science  as- 
certainable, are  complicated  with  optical  phenomena ;  and 
cannot  be  exhaustively  known  until  optical  principles  are 
known.  The  burning  of  a  candle  cannot  be  explained 
without  involving  chemistry,  mechanics,  thermology. 
Every  wind  that  blows  is  determined  by  influences  partly 
solar,  partly  lunai-,  partly  hygrometric ;  and  implies  con- 
siderations of  fluid  equilibrium  and  physical  geography 
The  direction,  dip,  and  variations  of  the  magnetic  needle, 
are  facts  half  terrestrial,  half  celestial — are  caused  by  earth- 
ly forces  which  have  cycles  of  change  corresponding  with 
astronomical  periods.  The  flowing  of  the  gulf-stream  and  the 
annual  migration  of  icebergs  towards  the  equator,  depend- 
ing as  they  do  on  the  balancing  of  the  centripetal  and  centri- 
fugal forces  acting  on  the  ocean,  involve  in  their  explana- 
tion the  Earth's  rotation  and  spheroidal  form,  the  laws  of 
hydrostatics,  the  relative  densities  of  cold  and  warm  water, 
and  the  doctrines  of  evaporation.  It  is  no  doubt  true,  as 
M.  Comte  says,  that  "  our  position  in  the  solar  system,  and 
the  motions,  form,  size,  equilibrium  of  the  mass  of  our 
world  among  the  planets,  must  be  known  before  we  can  un- 
derstand the  phenomena  going  on  at  its  surface."  But,  fa- 
tally for  his  hypothesis,  it  is  also  true  that  we  must  under- 
stand a  great  part  of  the  phenomena  goino;  on  at  its  surface 
before  we  can  know  its  position,  &c.,  in  the  solar  system 


186  THE    GEXESIS    OF    SCIEXCE. 

It  is  not  simply  that,  as  -we  have  already  shown,  those  geo- 
metrical and  mechanical  principles  by  which  celestial  ap 
pearances  are  explained,  were  first  generalized  from  terres- 
trial experiences  ;  but  it  is  that  the  very  obtainment  of  cor- 
rect data,  on  which  to  base  astronomical  generalizations, 
implies  advanced  terrestrial  physics. 

Until  after  optics  had  made  considerable  advance,  the 
Copernican  system  remained  but  a  speculation.  A  single 
modern  observation  on  a  star  has  to  undergo  a  careful  anal- 
ysis by  the  combined  aid  of  various  sciences — has  to  he  digest 
ed  hy  the  organism  of  the  sciences  /  which  have  severally 
to  assimilate  their  respective  parts  of  the  observation,  be- 
fore the  essential  fact  it  contains  is  available  for  the  further 
development  of  astronomy.  It  has  to  be  corrected  not 
only  for  nutation  of  the  earth's  axis  and  for  precession  of 
the  equinoxes,  but  for  aberration  and  for  refraction ;  and 
the  formation  of  the  tables  by  which  refraction  is  calculat- 
ed, presupposes  knowledge  of  the  law  of  decreasing  density 
in  the  uj^per  atmospheric  strata  ;  of  the  law  of  decreasing 
temperature,  and  the  influence  of  this  on  the  density ;  and  of 
hygrometric  laws  as  also  afiecting  density.  So  that,  to  get 
materials  for  further  advance,  astronomy  requires  not  only 
the  indirect  aid  of  the  sciences  which  have  presided  over 
the  making  of  its  improved  instruments,  but  the  direct  aid 
of  an  advanced  optics,  of  barology,  of  thermology,  of  hy- 
grometry;  and  if  we  remember  that  these  delicate  obser- 
vations are  in  some  cases  registered  electrically,  and  that 
they  are  farther  corrected  for  the  "  personal  equation  " — the 
time  elapsing  between  seeing  and  registering,  which  varies 
with  different  observers — we  may  even  add  electricity  and 
psychology.  If,  then,  so  apparently  simple  a  thing  as  as- 
certaining the  i^ositiou  of  a  star  is  complicated  with  so 
many  phenomena,  it  is  clear  that  this  notion  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  sciences,  or  certain  of  them,  will  not  hold. 

Whether  objectively  independent  or  not,  they  camiot 


mTERCOKN-ECTION   OF   ITS    BRANCHES.  187 

be  subjectively  so — they  cannot  have  independence  as  pre- 
sented to  our  consciousness ;  and  this  is  the  only  kind  of 
independence  with  which  we  are  concerned.  And  here, 
before  leaving  these  illustrations,  and  especially  this  last 
one,  let  us  not  omit  to  notice  how  clearly  they  exhibit  that 
increasingly  active  co?ise?isus  of  the  sciences  which  charac- 
terizes their  advancing  development.  Besides  finding  that 
in  these  later  times  a  discovery  in  one  science  commonly 
causes  progress  in  others  ;  besides  finding  that  a  great  part 
of  the  questions  with  which  modern  science  deals  are  so  mix- 
ed as  to  require  the  co-operation  of  many  sciences  for  their 
solution  ;  we  find  iathis  last  case  that,  to  make  a  single  good 
observation  in  the  purest  of  the  natural  sciences,  requires 
the  combined  assistance  of  half  a  dozen  other  sciences. 

Perhaps  the  clearest  comprehension  of  the  interconnect- 
ed growth  of  the  sciences  may  be  obtained  by  contemplat- 
ing that  of  the  arts,  to  which  it  is  strictly  analogous,  and 
with  which  it  is  inseparably  bound  up.  Most  intelligent 
persons  must  have  been,  at  one  time  or  other,  struck  with 
the  vast  array  of  antecedents  pre-supposed  by  one  of  our 
processes  of  manufacture.  Let  him  trace  the  production 
of  a  printed  cotton,  and  consider  all  that  is  implied  by  it. 
There  are  the  many  successive  improvements  through 
which  the  power-looms  reached  their  present  perfection ; 
there  is  the  steam-engine  that  drives  them,  having  its  long 
history  from  Papin  downwards ;  there  are  the  lathes  in 
which  its  cylinder  was  bored,  and  the  string  of  ancestral 
lathes  from  which  those  lathes  proceeded;  theie  is  the 
steam-hammer  under  which  its  crank  shaft  was  welded ; 
there  are  the  puddling-furnaces,  the  blast-furnaces,  the  coal- 
mines and  the  iron-mines  needful  for  producing  the  raw 
material ;  there  are  the  slowly  improved  appliances  by 
which  the  factory  was  built,  and  lighted,  and  ventilated  ; 
there  are  the  printing  engine,  and  the  die  house,  and  the  col* 
our  laboratory  with  its  stock  of  materials  from  all  parts  of 


188  THE    GEXESI3    OF    SCIEXCE. 

the  world,  implying  cochineal-culture,  logwood-cutting,  itt 
digo-growing  ;  there  are  the  implements  used  by  the  pro- 
ducers of  cotton,  the  gins  by  which  it  is  cleaned,  the  elab- 
orate machines  by  which  it  is  spun :  there  are  the  vessels 
in  which  cotton  is  imj^orted,  with  the  building-slips,  the 
roj^e-yards,  the  sail-cloth  factories,  the  anchor-forges,  need- 
ful for  making  them  ;  and  besides  all  these  directly  neces- 
sary antecedents,  each  of  them  involving  many  others, 
there  are  the  institutions  which  have  developed  the  requi- 
site intelligence,  the  printing  and  publishing  arrangements 
which  have  spread  the  necessary  information,  the  social  or- 
ganization which  has  rendered  possible  such  a  complex  co- 
operation of  agencies. 

Further  analysis  would  show  that  the  many  arts  thus 
concerned  in  the  economical  production  of  a  child's  frock, 
have  each  of  them  been  brought  to  its  present  efficiency 
by  slow  steps  which  the  other  arts  have  aided  ;  and  that 
from  the  beginning  this  reciprocity  has  been  ever  on  the 
increase.  It  needs  but  on  the  one  hand  to  consider  how 
utterly  impossible  it  is  for  the  savage,  even  with  ore  and 
coal  ready,  to  produce  so  simple  a  thing  as  an  iron  hatchet ; 
and  then  to  consider,  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  would  have 
been  impracticable  among  ourselves,  even  a  century  ago, 
to  raise  the  tubes  of  the  Britannia  bridge  from  lack  of  the 
hydraulic  press ;  to  at  once  see  how  mutually  dependent 
are  the  arts,  and  how  all  must  advance  that  each  may  ad- 
vance. Well,  the  sciences  are  involved  with  each  other 
in  just  the  same  manner.  They  are,  in  fact,  inextricably 
woven  into  this  same  complex  web  of  the  aits ;  and  are 
only  conventionally  independent  of  it.  Originally  the  two 
were  one.  How  to  fix  the  religious  festivals  ;  when  to  sow ; 
how  to  weigh  commodities ;  and  in  what  manner  to  meas- 
ure ground ;  were  the  purely  practical  questions  out  of 
which  arose  astronomy,  mechanics,  geometry.  Since  then 
there  has  been  a  perpetual  inosculation  of  the  sciences  and 


INTERDEPENDENCE    OF    ARTS    AND    SCIENCES.  189 

the  arts.  Science  lias  been  supplying  art  with  truer  generali 
zations  and  more  completely  quantitative  previsions.  Art  has 
been  supplying  science  with  better  materials  and  more  per- 
fect instruments.  And  all  along  the  interdependence  has  been 
growing  closer,  not  only  between  art  and  science,  but  among 
the  arts  themselves,  and  among  the  sciences  themselves. 

How  completely  the  analogy  holds  throughout,  becomes 
yet  clearer  when  we  recognise  the  fact  that  the  sciences  are 
arts  to  each  other.  If,  as  occurs  in  almost  every  case,  the 
fact  to  be  analyzed  by  any  science,  has  first  to  be  prepared 
— to  be  disentangled  from  disturbing  facts  by  the  afore 
discovered  methods  of  other  sciences ;  the  other  sciences 
so  used,  stand  in  the  position  of  arts.  If,  in  solving  a  dyna- 
mical problem,  a  parallelogram  is  drawn,  of  which  the  sides 
and  diagonal  represent  forces,  and  by  putting  magnitudes 
of  extension  for  magnitudes  of  force  a  measurable  relation 
is  establislied  between  quantities  not  else  to  be  dealt  with  ; 
it  may  be  fairly  said  that  geometry  plays  towards  mechan- 
ics much  the  same  part  that  the  fire  of  the  founder  plays 
towards  the  metal  he  is  going  to  cast.  If,  in  analyzing  the 
phenomena  of  the  coloured  rings  surrounding  the  point  of 
contact  between  two  lenses,  a  Newton  ascertains  by  calcu- 
lation the  amount  of  certain  interposed  spaces,  far  too  mi- 
nute for  actual  measurement ;  he  employs  the  science  of 
number  for  essentially  the  same  purpose  as  that  for  which 
the  watchmaker  employs  tools.  If,  before  writing  down 
his  observation  on  a  star,  the  astronomer  has  to  separate 
from  it  all  the  errors  resulting  from  atmospheric  and  optical 
laws,  it  is  manifest  that  the  refraction-tables,  and  logarithm- 
books,  and  formula),  which  he  successively  uses,  serve  him 
much  as  retorts,  and  filters,  and  cupels  serve  the  assayer 
who  wishes  to  separate  the  pure  gold  from  all  accompany- 
mo-  inofredients. 

o         o 

So  close,  indeed,  is  the  relationship,  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  say  wbere  science  begins  and  art  ends.     All  the  in- 


190  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

Etruments  of  the  natural  iDhilosopher  are  the  products  of 
art ;  the  adjusting  one  of  them  for  use  is  an  art ;  there  is 
art  in  making  an  observation  with  one  of  them;  it  requires 
art  properly  to  treat  the  facts  ascertained ;  nay,  even  the 
employing  estabhshed  generalizations  to  open  the  way  to 
new  generalizations,  may  be  considered  as  art.  In  each  of 
these  cases  previously  organized  knowledge  becomes  the 
implement  by  which  new  knowledge  is  got  at :  and  whether 
that  previously  organized  knowledge  is  embodied  in  a  tan- 
gible apparatus  or  in  a  formula,  matters  not  in  so  far  as  its 
essential  relation  to  the  new  knowledge  is  concerned.  If, 
as  no  one  will  deny,  art  is  applied  knowledge,  then  such 
portion  of  a  scientific  investigation  as  consists  of  applied 
knowledge  is  art.  So  that  we  may  even  say  that  as  soon 
as  any  prevision  in  science  passes  out  of  its  originally  pas- 
sive state,  and  is  employed  for  reaching  other  previsions, 
it  passes  from  theory  into  practice — becomes  science  in  ac- 
tion— ^becomes  art.  And  when  we  thus  see  how  purely 
conventional  is  the  ordinary  distinction,  how  impossible  it 
is  to  make  any  real  separation — when  we  see  not  only  that 
science  and  art  were  originally  one ;  that  the  arts  have 
perpetually  assisted  each  other ;  that  there  has  been  a  con- 
stant reciprocation  of  aid  between  the  sciences  and  arts  ; 
but  that  the  sciences  act  as  arts  to  each  other,  and  that  the 
established  part  of  each  science  becomes  an  art  to  the 
growing  part — when  we  recognize  the  closeness  of  these 
associations,  we  shall  the  more  clearly  perceive  that  as  the 
connexion  of  the  arts  with  each  other  has  been  ever  be- 
coming more  intimate  ;  as  the  help  given  by  sciences  to 
arts  and  by  arts  to  sciences,  has  been  age  by  age  increas- 
ing ;  so  the  interdependence  of  the  sciences  themselves  has 
been  ever  growing  greater,  their  mutual  relations  more  in- 
\olved,  their  conse?isus  more  active. 

In  here  ending  our  sketch  of  the  Genesis  of  Science,  we 


DIFFICULTIES    IN   TREATING   THE    SUBJECT.  191 

are  conscious  of  having  done  the  subject  but  scant  justice. 
Two  difficulties  have  stood  in  our  way :  one,  the  having  to 
touch  on  so  many  points  in  sucti  small  space ;  the  other^ 
the  necessity  of  treating  in  serial  arrangement  a  process 
which  is  not  serial — a  difficulty  which  must  ever  attend  all 
attempts  to  delineate  processes  of  development,  whatever 
their  special  nature.  Add  to  which,  that  to  present  in  any- 
thing like  completeness  and  proportion,  even  the  outlines 
of  so  vast  and  complex  a  history,  demands  years  of  study. 
Nevertheless,  we  believe  that  the  evidence  which  has  been 
assigned  suffices  to  substantiate  the  leading  propositions 
with  which  we  set  out.  Inquiry  into  the  first  stages  of 
science  confirms  the  conclusion  which  we  drew  from  the 
analysis  of  science  as  now  existing,  that  it  is  not  distinct 
from  common  knowledge,  but  an  outgrowth  from  it — an 
extension  of  the  perception  by  means  of  the  reason. 

That  which  we  further  found  by  analysis  to  form  the 
more  specific  characteristic  of  scientific  previsions,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  previsions  of  uncultured  intelligence — their 
quantitativeness — we  also  see  to  have  been  the  character- 
istic alike  in  the  initial  steps  in  science,  and  of  all  the  steps 
succeeding  them.  The  facts  and  admissions  cited  in  dis- 
proof of  the  assertion  that  the  sciences  follow  one  another, 
both  logically  and  historically,  in  the  order  of  their  de- 
creasing generality,  have  been  enforced  by  the  sundry  in- 
stances we  have  met  with,  in  which  the  more  general  or 
abstract  sciences  have  been  advanced  only  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  the  more  special  or  concrete — instances  serving  to 
show  that  a  more  general  science  as  much  owes  its  progress 
to  the  presentation  of  new  problems  by  a  more  special 
science,  as  the  more  special  science  owes  its  progress  to 
the  solutions  which  the  more  general  science  is  thus  led  to 
attempt — instances  therefore  illustrating  the  position  that 
scientific  advance  is  as  much  from  the  special  to  the  general 
as  from  the  general  to  the  special. 


192  THE    GENESIS    OF    SCIENCE. 

Quite  in  harmony  with  this  position  we  find  to  be  the 
admissions  that  the  sciences  are  as  branches  of  one  trunk, 
and  that  they  were  at  first  cultivated  simultaneously ;  and 
this  harmony  becomes  the  more  marked  on  finding,  as  we 
have  done,  not  only  that  the  sciences  have  a  common  root, 
but  that  science  in  general  has  a  common  root  with  lan- 
guage, classification,  reasoning,  art ;  that  throughout  civili- 
2;ation  these  have  advanced  together,  acting  and  reacting 
upon  each  other  just  as  the  separate  sciences  have  done ; 
and  that  thus  the  development  of  intelligence  in  all  its  di- 
visions and  subdivisions  has  conformed  to  this  same  law 
which  we  have  shown  that  the  sciences  conform  to.  From 
all  which  we  may  perceive  that  the  sciences  can  with  no 
greater  propriety  be  arranged  in  a  succession,  than  language, 
classification,  reasoning,  art,  and  science,  can  be  arranged 
in  a  succession;  that,  however  needful  a  succession  may  be 
for  the  convenience  of  books  and  catalogues,  it  must  be 
recognized  merely  as  a  convention ;  and  that  so  far  from  its 
being  the  function  of  a  philosophy  of  the  sciences  to  estab- 
lish a  hierarchy,  it  is  its  function  to  show  that  the  linear 
arrangements  required  for  literary  purposes,  have  none  of 
them  any  basis  either  in  Nature  or  History. 

There  is  one  further  remark  we  must  not  omit — a  re- 
mark touching  the  importance  of  the  question  that  has  been 
discussed.  Unfortunately  it  commonly  happens  that  topics 
of  this  abstract  nature  are  slighted  as  of  no  practical  mo- 
ment ;  and,  we  doubt  not,  that  many  will  think  it  of  very 
little  consequence  what  theory  respecting  the  genesis  of 
science  may  be  entertained.  But  the  value  of  truths  is  of- 
ten great,  in  proportion  as  their  generality  is  wide.  Re- 
mote as  they  seem  from  practical  application,  the  highest 
generalizations  are  not  unfrequently  the  most  potent  in 
their  effects,  in  virtue  of  their  influence  on  all  those  subor 
dinate  generalizations  which  regulate  practice.  And  it  must 
be  so  here.     Whenever  established,  a  correct  theory  of  the 


EDUCATIONAL    BEARINGS    OF   THE   DISCUSSION.  193 

nistorical  development  of  the  sciences  must  have  an  immense 
effect  upon  education ;  and,  through  education,  upon  civili- 
zation. Greatly  as  we  differ  from  him  in  other  respects, 
we  agree  with  M.  Comte  in  the  belief  that,  rightly  conduct- 
ed, the  education  of  the  individual  must  have  a  certain  cor- 
respondence with  the  evolution  of  the  race. 

No  one  can  contemplate  the  facts  we  have  cited  in  illus- 
tration of  the  early  stages  of  science,  without  recognising 
the  necessity  of  the  processes  through  which  those  stages 
were  reached — a  necessity  which,  in  respect  to  the  leading 
truths,  may  likewise  be  traced  in  all  after  stages.  This  ne- 
cessity, originating  in  the  very  nature  of  the  phenomena  to 
be  analyzed  and  the  faculties  to  be  emj^loyed,  more  or  less 
fully  applies  to  the  mind  of  the  child  as  to  that  of  the  sav- 
age. We  say  more  or  less  fully,  because  the  correspondence 
is  not  special  but  general  only.  Were  the  environment  the 
same  in  both  cases,  the  correspondence  would  be  complete. 
But  though  the  surrounding  material  out  of  which  science  is 
to  be  organized,  is,  in  many  cases,  the  same  to  the  juvenile 
mind  and  the  aboriginal  mind,  it  is  not  so  throughout ;  as, 
for  instance,  in  the  case  of  chemistry,  the  phenomena  of 
which  are  accessible  to  the  one,  but  were  inaccessible  to 
the  other.  Hence,  in  proportion  as  the  environment  differs, 
the  course  of  evolution  must  differ.  After  admitting  sun 
dry  exceptions,  however,  there  remains  a  substantial  par- 
allelism ;  and,  if  so,  it  becomes  of  great  moment  to  ascer 
tain  what  really  has  been  the  process  of  scientific  evolution, 
The  establishment  of  an  erroneous  theory  must  be  disas- 
trous  in  its  educational  results ;  while  the  establishment  of 
a  true  one  must  eventually  be  fertile  in  school-reforms  and 
consequent  social  benefits. 

9 


IV. 

THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OP  LAUGHTER. 


"TXT'HY  do  we  smile  when  a  child  puts  on  a  man's  hat  ? 
VV  or  what  induces  us  to  laugh  on  reading  that  the 
corpulent  Gibbon  was  unable  to  rise  from  his  knees  after 
making  a  tender  declaration  ?  The  usual  reply  to  such 
questions  is,  that  laughter  results  from  a  perception  of  in- 
congruity. Even  were  there  not  on  this  reply  the  obvious 
criticism  that  laughter  often  occurs  from  extreme  pleasure 
or  from  mere  vivacity,  there  would  still  remain  the  real 
problem — How  comes  a  sense  of  the  incongruous  to  be 
followed  by  these  peculiar  bodily  actions  ?  Some  have  al- 
leged that  laughter  is  due  to  the  pleasure  of  a  relative  self- 
elevation,  which  we  feel  on  seeing  the  humihation  of  others. 
But  this  theory,  whatever  portion  of  truth  it  may  contain, 
is,  in  the  first  place,  open  to  the  fatal  objection,  that  there 
are  various  humiliations  to  others  which  produce  in  us  any- 
thing but  laughter  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  it  does  not 
apply  to  the  many  instances  in  which  no  one's  dignity  is 
implicated  :  as  when  we  laugh  at  a  good  pun.  Moreover, 
like  the  other,  it  is  merely  a  generalization  of  certain  con- 
ditions to  laughter ;  and  not  an  explanation  of  the  odd 
movements  which  occur  under  these  conditions.  Why, 
when  greatly  delighted,  or  impressed  with  certain  unex- 


ILLUSTEATIONS    OF   KEFLEX    ACTION.  195 

pected  contrasts  of  ideas,  should  there  be  a  contraction  of 
particular  facial  muscles,  and  particular  muscles  of  the 
chest  and  abdomen  ?  Such  answer  to  this  question  as  may 
be  possible,  can  be  rendered  only  by  physiology. 

Every  child  has  made  the  attempt  to  hold  the  foot  still 
while  it  is  tickled,  and  has  failed ;  and  probably  there  ia 
scarcely  any  one  who  has  not  vainly  tried  to  avoid  wink- 
ing, when  a  hand  has  been  suddenly  passed  before  the  eyes. 
These  examples  of  muscular  movements  which  occur  inde- 
pendently of  the  will,  or  in  spite  of  it,  illustrate  what  phy- 
siologists call  reflex-action ;  as  likewise  do  sneezing  and 
coughing.  To  this  class  of  cases,  in  which  involuntary 
motions  are  accompanied  by  sensations,  has  to  be  added 
another  class  of  cases,  in  which  involuntary  motions  are 
unaccompanied  by  sensations  ; — instance  the  pulsations  of 
the  heart ;  the  contractions  of  the  stomach  during  diges- 
tion. Further,  the  great  mass  of  seemingly-voluntary  acts 
in  such  creatures  as  insects,  worms,  molluscs,  are  consid- 
ered by  physiologists  to  be  as  purely  automatic  as  is  the 
dilatation  or  closure  of  the  iris  under  variations  in  quantity 
of  light ;  and  similarly  exemplify  the  law,  that  an  impres- 
sion on  the  end  of  an  afferent  nerve  is  conveyed  to  some 
ganglionic  centre,  and  is  thence  usually  reflected  along  an 
efferent  nerve  to  one  or  more  muscles  which  it  causes  to 
contract. 

In  a  modified  form  this  principle  holds  with  voluntary 
acts.  Nervous  excitation  always  te^ids  to  beget  muscular 
motion ;  and  when  it  rises  to  a  certain  intensity,  always 
aoL'S  beget  it.  Not  only  in  reflex  actions,  whether  with  or 
witliout  sensation,  do  we  see  that  special  nerves,  when 
raised  to  a  state  of  tension,  discharge  themselves  on  special 
muscles  with  which  they  are  indirectly  connected ;  but 
those  external  actions  through  which  we  read  the  feehngs 
of  others,  show  us  that  under  any  considerable  tension,  the 


196  THE   PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LAUGHTEE. 

nervous  system  in  general  discharges  itself  on  the  muscular 
system  in  general :  either  with  or  without  the  guidance  of 
the  will.  The  shivering  j^roduced  by  cold,  implies  irregular 
muscular  contractions,  which,  though  at  first  only  partly 
involuntary,  become,  when  the  cold  is  extreme,  almost 
wholly  involuntary.  When  you  have  severely  burnt  your 
finger,  it  is  very  difficult  to  preserve  a  dignified  composure  : 
contortion  of  face,  or  movement  of  limb,  is  pretty  sure  to 
follow.  If  a  man  receives  good  news  with  neither  change 
of  feature  nor  bodily  motion,  it  is  inferred  that  he  is  not 
much  pleased,  or  that  he  has  extraordinary  self-control — 
either  inference  implying  that  joy  almost  universally  pro- 
duces contraction  of  the  muscles;  and  so,  alters  the  ex- 
pression, or  attitude,  or  both.  And  when  we  hear  of  the 
feats  of  strength  which  men  have  performed  when  their 
lives  were  at  stake — when  we  read  how,  in  the  energy  of 
despair,  even  paralytic  patients  have  regained  for  a  time 
the  use  of  their  limbs ;  we  see  still  more  clearly  the  rela- 
tions between  nervous  and  muscular  excitements.  It  be- 
comes manifest  both  that  emotions  and  sensations  tend  to 
generate  bodily  movements,  and  that  the  movements  are 
vehement  in  proportion  as  the  emotions  or  sensations  are 
intense.* 

This,  however,  is  not  the  sole  direction  in  which  ner- 
vous excitement  expends  itself.  Viscera  as  well  as  muscles 
may  receive  the  discharge.  That  the  heart  and  blood- 
vessels (which,  indeed,  being  all  contractile,  may  in  a  re- 
stricted sense  be  classed  with  the  muscular  system). are 
quickly  aifected  by  pleasures  and  pains,  we  have  daily 
proved  to  us.  Every  sensation  of  any  acuteness  acceler- 
ates the  pulse ;  and  how  sensitive  the  heart  is  to  emotions, 
is  testified  by  the  familiar  expressions  which  use  heart  and 

*  For  numerous  illustrations  see  essay  on  "  The  Origin  and  Function 
of  Music." 


■  DISCHAEGE   OF   NERVOUS    EXCITEMENT.  197 

feeling  as  convertible  terms.  Similarly  witli  the  digestive 
organs.  Without  detailing  the  various  ways  in  which  these 
may  be  influenced  by  our  mental  states,  it  suffices  to  men- 
tion the  marked  benefits  derived  by  dys^Deptics,  as  well  as 
other  invalids,  from  cheerful  society,  welcome  news,  change 
of  scene,  to  show  how  pleasurable  feeling  stimulates  th 
viscera  in  general  into  greater  activity. 

There  is  still  another  direction  in  which  any  excited 
portion  of  the  nervous  system  may  discharge  itself;  and  a 
direction  in  which  it  usually  does  discharge  itself  when  the 
excitement  is  not  strong.  It  may  pass  on  the  stimulus  to 
some  other  portion  of  the  nervous  system.  This  is  what 
occurs  in  quiet  thinking  and  feeling.  The  successive  states 
which  constitute  consciousness,  result  from  this.  Sensa- 
tions excite  ideas  and  emotions  ;  these  in  their  turns  arouse 
other  ideas  and  emotions ;  and  so,  continuously.  That  is 
to  say,  the  tension  existing  in  particular  nerves,  or  groups 
of  nerves,  when  they  yield  us  certain  sensations,  ideas,  or 
emotions,  generates  an  equivalent  tension  in  some  other 
nerves,  or  groups  of  nerves,  with  which  there  is  a  connex- 
ion :  the  flow  of  energy  passing  on,  the  one  idea  or  feeling 
dies  in  producing  the  next. 

Thus,  then,  while  we  are  totally  unable  to  comprehend 
how  the  excitement  of  certain  nerves  should  generate  feel- 
ing— while,  in  the  production  of  consciousness  by  physical 
agents  acting  on  physical  structure,  we  come  to  an  abso- 
lute mystery  never  to  be  solved  ;  it  is  yet  quite  possible 
for  us  to  know  by  observation  what  are  the  successive 
forms  which  this  absolute  mystery  may  take.  We  see  that 
there  are  three  channels  along  which  nerves  in  a  state  of 
tension  may  discharge  themselves  ;  or  rather,  I  should  say, 
three  classes  of  channels.  They  may  pass  on  the  excite- 
ment to  other  nerves  that  have  no  direct  connexions  with 
the  bodily  members,  and  may  so  cause  other  feelings  and 
ideas  J  or  they  may  pass  on  the  excitement  to  one  or  more 


L98  THE   PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LAUGHTER. 

motor  nerves,  and  so  cause  muscular  contractions ;  or  they 
may  pass  on  the  excitement  to  nerves  which  supply  the  vis- 
cera, and  may  so  stimulate  one  or  more  of  these. 

For  simplicity's  sake,  I  have  described  these  as  alterna- 
tive routes,  one  or  other  of  which  any  current  of  nerve- 
force  must  take  ;  thereby,  as  it  may  be  thought,  implying 
that  such  current  will  be  exclusively  confined  to  some  one 
of  them.  But  this  is  by  no  means  the  case.  Rarely,  if 
ever,  does  it  happen  that  a  state  of  nervous  tension,  present 
to  consciousness  as  a  feeling,  expends  itself  in  one  direction 
only.  Very  generally  it  may  be  observed  to  expend  itself 
in  two  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  discharge  is  never  abso- 
lutely absent  from  any  one  of  the  three.  There  is,  how- 
ever, variety  in  the  proportions  in  which  the  discharge  is 
divided  among  these  different  channels  under  different  cir- 
cumstances. In  a  man  whose  fear  impels  him  to  run,  the 
mental  tension  generated  is  only  in  part  transformed  into  a 
muscular  stimulus  :  there  is  a  surplus  which  causes  a  rapid 
current  of  ideas.  An  agreeable  state  of  feeling  produced, 
say  by  praise,  is  not  wholly  used  up  in  arousing  the  suc- 
ceeding phase  of  the  feeling,  and  the  new  ideas  appropriate 
to  it ;  but  a  certain  portion  overflows  into  the  visceral  ner- 
vous system,  increasing  the  action  of  the  heart,  and  proba- 
bly facilitating  digestion.  And  here  we  come  upon  a  class 
of  considerations  and  facts  which  open  the  way  to  a  solu- 
tion of  our  special  problem. 

For  starting  with  the  unquestionable  truth,  that  at  any 
moment  the  existing  quantity  of  liberated  nerve-force, 
which  in  an  inscrutable  way  produces  in  us  the  state  we 
call  feeling,  must  expend  itself  in  some  direction — must 
generate  an  equivalent  manifestation  of  force  somewhere — 
it  clearly  follows  that,  if  of  the  several  channels  it  may 
take,  one  is  wholly  or  partially  closed,  more  must  be  taken 
by  the  others ;  or  that  if  two  are  closed,  the  discharge 
along  the  remaining  one  must  be  more  intense ;  and  that, 


WHY   SILENT    GEIEF   IS   THE   DEEPEST   GRIEF.         199 

conversely,  should  anything  determine  an  unusual  efflux  in 
one  direction,  there  will  be  a  diminished  efflux  in  other  di- 
rections. 

Daily  experience  illustrates  these  conclusions.  It  is 
commonly  remarked,  that  the  suppression  of  external  signs 
of  feeling,  makes  feeling  more  intense.  The  deepest  grief 
is  silent  grief.  Why?  Because  the  nervous  excitement 
not  discharged  in  muscular  action,  discharges  itself  in  other 
nervous  excitements — arouses  more  numerous  and  more 
remote  associations  of  melancholy  ideas,  and  so  increases 
the  mass  of  feelings.  People  who  conceal  their  anger  are 
habitually  found  to  be  more  revengeful  than  those  who  ex- 
plode in  loud  speech  and  vehement  action.  Why?  Be- 
cause, as  before,  the  emotion  is  reflected  back,  accumulates, 
and  intensifies.  Similarly,  men  who,  as  proved  by  their 
powers  of  representation,  have  the  keenest  appreciation  of 
the  comic,  are  usually  able  to  do  and  say  the  most  ludi- 
crous things  with  perfect  gravity. 

On  the  other  hand,  all  are  familiar  with  the  truth  that 
bodily  activity  deadens  emotion.  Under  great  irritation 
we  get  relief  by  walking  about  rapidly.  Extreme  effort  in 
the  bootless  attempt  to  achieve  a  desired  end,  greatly  di- 
minishes the  intensity  of  the  desire.  Those  who  are  forced 
to  exert  themselves  after  misfortunes,  do  not  suffer  nearly 
so  much  as  those  who  remain  quiescent.  If  any  one  wishes 
to  check  intellectual  excitement,  he  cannot  choose  a  more 
efficient  method  than  running  till  he  is  exhausted.  More- 
over, these  cases,  in  which  the  production  of  feeling  and 
thought  is  hindered  by  determining  the  nervous  energy 
towards  bodily  movements,  have  their  counterparts  in  the 
cases  in  which  bodily  movements  are  hindered  by  extra 
absorption  of  nervous  energy  in  sudden  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings. If,  when  walking  along,  there  flashes  on  you  an  idea 
that  creates  great  surprise,  hope,  or  alarm,  you  stop  ;  or  if 
sitting  cross-legged,  swinging  your  pendent  foot,  the  move- 


200  "    THE   PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LAUGHTEE. 

ment  is  at  once  arrested.  From  the  viscera,  too,  intense 
mental  action  abstracts  energy.  Joy,  disappointment,  anx 
iety,  or  any  moral  perturbation  rising  to  a  great  height, 
will  destroy  appetite  ;  or  if  food  has  been  taken,  will  arrest 
digestion ;  and  even  a  purely  intellectual  activity,  when 
extreme,  will  do  the  like. 

Facts,  then,  fully  bear  out  these  a  priori  inferences^ 
that  the  nervous  excitement  at  any  moment  present  to 
consciousness  as  feeling,  must  expend  itself  in  some  way  or 
other ;  that  of  the  three  classes  of  channels  open  to  it,  it 
must  take  one,  two,  or  more,  according  to  circumstances  ; 
that  the  closure  or  obstruction  of  one,  must"  increase  the 
discharge  through  the  others ;  and  conversely,  that  if  to 
answer  some  demand,  the  efflux  of  nervous  energy  in  one 
direction  is  unusually  great,  there  must  be  a  corresponding 
decrease  of  the  efflux  in  other  directions.  Setting  out 
from  these  premises,  let  us  now  see  what  interpretation  is 
to  be  put  on  the  phenomena  of  laughter. 

That  laughter  is  a  display  of  muscular  excitement,  and 
so  illustrates  the  general  law  that  feeling  passing  a  certain 
pitch  habitually  vents  itself  in  bodily  action,  scarcely  needs 
pointing  out.  It  perhaps  needs  pointing  out,  however, 
that  strong  feeling  of  almost  any  kind  produces  this  result. 
It  is  not  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  only,  which  does  it ;  nor 
are  the  various  forms  of  joyous  emotion  the  sole  additional 
causes.  We  have,  besides,  the  sardonic  laughter  and  the 
hysterical  laughter,  which  result  from  mental  distress ;  to 
which  must  be  added  certain  sensations,  as  tickling,  and, 
according  to  Mr.  Bain,  cold,  and  some  kinds  of  acute  pain. 

Strong  feeling,  mental  or  physical,  being,  then,  the  gen* 
eral  cause  of  laughter,  we  have  to  note  that  the  muscular 
actions  constituting  it  are  distinguished  from  most  others 
by  this,  that  they  are  purposeless.  In  general,  bodily  mo- 
tions that  are  prompted  by  feelings  are  directed  to  special 


WHY  WE  LAUGH  WITH  THE  ORGANS  OF  SPEECH.        201 

ends ;  as  when  we  try  to  escape  a  danger,  or   struggle  tc 
Becure  a  gratification.     But  the  movements  of  chest  and 
limbs  which  we  make  when  laughing  have  no  object.     And 
now  remark  that  these  quasi-convulsive  contractions  of  the 
muscles,  having  no  object,  but  being  results  of  an  uncon- 
trolled discharge  of  energy,  we  may  see  whence  arise  their 
special  characters — how  it  happens  that  certain  classes  of 
muscles  are  affected  first,  and  then  certain  other  classes. 
For  an  overflow  of  nerve-force,  undirected  by  any  motive, 
will  manifestly  take  first  the  most  habitual  routes ;  and  if 
these  do  not  suffice,  will  next  overflow  into  the  less  habit- 
ual ones.     Well,  it  is  through  the  organs  of  speech  that 
feehng  passes  into  movement  with  the  greatest  frequency. 
The  jaws,  tongue,  and  lips  are  used  not  only  to   express 
strong  irritation  or  gratification ;  but  that  very  moderate 
flow  of  mental  energy  which  accompanies  ordinary  conver- 
sation, finds  its  chief  vent  through  this  channel.     Hence  it 
happens  that  certain  muscles  round  the  mouth,  small  and 
easy  to  move,  are  the  first  to  contract  under  pleasurable 
emotion.     The  class  of  muscles  which,  next  after  those  of 
articulation,  are  most  constantly  set  in  action  (or  extra  ac- 
tion, we  should  say)  by  feelings  of  all  kinds,  are  those  of 
respiration.      Under  pleasurable  or  painful  sensations  we 
breathe  more  rapidly  :  possibly  as  a  consequence  of  the  in- 
creased demand  for  oxygenated  blood.      The   sensations 
that   accompany  exertion   also  bring  on  hard- breathing ; 
which  here  more  evidently  responds  to  the  physiological 
needs.      And  emotions,  too,   agreeable  and  disagreeable, 
both,  at  first,   excite  respiration ;  though  the  last  subse- 
quently depress  it.     That  is  to  say,  of  the  bodily  muscles, 
the  respiratory  are  more  constantly  implicated  than  any 
others  in  those  various  acts  which  our  feelings  impel  us  to  ; 
and,  hence,  when  there  occurs  an  undirected  discharge  of 
nervous  energy  into  the  muscular  system,  it  happens  that, 
if  the   quantity  be  considerable,  it  convulses  not  only  cer- 
9* 


202  THE    PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LAUGHTER. 

tain  of  the  articulatoiy  and  vocal  muscles,  but  also  those 
which  expel  air  from  the  lungs. 

Should  the  feeling  to  be  expended  be  still  greater  in 
amount — too  great  to  find  vent  in  these  classes  of  muscles 
— another  class  comes  into  play.  The  upper  limbs  are  set 
in  motion.  Children  frequently  clap  their  hands  in  glee ; 
by  some  adults  the  hands  are  rubbed  together ;  and  others, 
under  still  greater  intensity  of  delight,  slap  their  knees  and 
sway  their  bodies  backwards  and  forwards.  Last  of  all, 
when  th-e  other  channels  for  the  escape  of  the  surplus  nerve- 
force  have  been  filled  to  overflow^ing,  a  yet  further  and  less- 
used  group  of  muscles  is  spasmodically  affected  :  the  head 
is  thrown  back  and  the  spine  bent  inwards — there  is  a  slight 
degree  of  what  medical  men  call  opisthotonos.  Thus,  then, 
without  contending  that  the  phenomena  of  laughter  in  all 
their  details  are  to  be  so  accounted  for,  we  see  that  in  their 
ensemble  they  conform  to  these  general  principles : — that 
feelins:  excites  to  muscular  action  ;  that  when  the  muscular 
action  is  unguided  by  a  purpose,  the  muscles  first  affected 
are  those  which  feeling  most  habitually  stimulates ;  and 
that  as  the  feeling  to  be  expended  increases  in  quantity,  it 
excites  an  increasing  number  of  muscles,  in  a  succession 
determined  by  the  relative  frequency  with  which  they  re- 
spond to  the  regulated  dictates  of  feeling. 

There  stUl,  however,  remains  the  question  with  which 
we  set  out.  The  explanation  here  given  api^lies  only  to  the 
laughter  produced  by  acute  pleasure  or  pain  :  it  does  not 
apply  to  the  laughter  that  follows  certain  perceptions  of 
incongruity.  It  is  an  insufficient  explanation  that  in  these 
cases,  laughter  is  a  result  of  the  pleasure  we  take  in  es- 
caping from  the  restraint  of  grave  feelings.  That  this  is  a 
part-cause  is  true.  Doubtless  very  often,  as  Mr.  Bain  says, 
♦*  it  is  the  coerced  form  of  seriousness  and  solemnity  with- 
out the  reality  that  gives  us  that  stiff  position  from  which 
a  contact  with  triviality  or  vulgarity  relieves  us,  to  our  up* 


EFFECT   OF   INCONGKUOUS    TERCEPTIONS.  203 

roarious  delight."  And  in  so  far  as  mirth  is  caused  "by  the 
gush  of  agreeable  feeling  that  follows  the  cessation  of  men- 
tal strain,  it  fuvther  illustrates  the  general  principle  above 
set  forth.  But  no  explanation  is  thus  afforded  of  the  mirth 
which  ensues  when  the  short  silence  between  the  andante 
and  allegro  in  one  of  Beethoven's  symphonies,  is  broken  by 
a  loud  sneeze.  In  this,  and  hosts  of  like  cases,  the  mental 
tension  is  not  coerced  but  spontaneous — not  disagreeable 
but  agreeable ;  and  the  coming  impressions  to  which  the 
attention  is  directed,  promise  a  gratification  that  few,  if 
any,  desire  to  escape.  Hence,  when  the  unlucky  sneeze 
occurs,  it  cannot  be  that  the  laughter  of  the  audience  is 
due  simply  to  the  release  from  an  irksome  attitude  of 
mind  :  some  other  cause  must  be  sought. 

This  cause  we  shall  arrive  at  by  carrying  our  analysis  a 
stej)  further.  We  have  but  to  consider  the  quantity  of  feel- 
ing that  exists  under  such  circumstances,  and  then  to  ask 
what  are  the  conditions  that  determine  the  direction  of  its 
discharge,  to  at  once  reach  a  solution.  Take  a  case.  You 
are  sitting  in  a  theatre,  absorbed  in  the  progress  of  an  in- 
teresting drama.  Some  climax  has  been  reached  which 
has  aroused  your  sympathies — say,  a  reconciliation  between 
the  hero  and  heroine,  after  long  and  painful  misunderstand- 
ing. The  feelings  excited  by  this  scene  are  not  of  a  kind 
from  which  you  seek  relief;  but  are,  on  the  contrary,  a 
grateful  relief  from  the  painful  feelings  with  which  you 
have  witnessed  the  previous  estrangement.  Moreover,  the 
sentiments  these  fictitious  personages  have  for  the  moment 
inspired  you  with,  are  not  such  as  would  lead  you  to  re- 
joice in  any  indignity  offered  to  them  ;  but  rather,  such  as 
would  make  you  resent  the  'iidignity.  And  now,  while 
you  are  contemplating  the  reconcihation  with  a  pleasurable 
sympathy,  there  appears  from  behind  the  scenes  a  tame 
kid,  which,  having  stared  round  at  the  audience,  walks  up 
to  the  lovers  and  sniffs  at  them.     You  cannot  help  joining 


204  THE   rHYSIOLOGT   OF  LAUGHTER. 

m  the  roar  which  greets  this  C07itretemps.  Inexplicable  as 
is  this  irresistible  burst  on  the  hypothesis  of  a  pleasure  in 
escaping  from  mental  restraint ;  or  on  the  hypothesis  of  a 
pleasure  from  relative  increase  of  self-importance,  when 
witnessing  the  humiliation  of  others ;  it  is  readily  explica- 
ble if  we  consider  what,  in  such  a  case,  must  become  of  the 
feeling  that  existed  at  the  moment  the  incongruity  arose. 
A  large  mass  of  emotion  had  been  produced  ;  or,  to  speafe 
in  physiological  language,  a  large  portion  of  the  nervous 
system  was  in  a  state  of  tension.  There  was  also  great 
expectation  with  respect  to  the  further  evolution  of  the 
scene — a  quantity  of  vague,  nascent  thought  and  emotion, 
into  which  the  existing  quantity  of  thought  and  emotion 
was  about  to  pass. 

Had  there  been  no  interruption,  the  body  of  new  ideas 
and  feelings  next  excited,  would  have  sufficed  to  absorb 
the  whole  of  the  liberated  nervous  energy.  But  now,  this 
large  amount  of  nervous  energy,  instead  of  being  allowed 
to  expend  itself  in  producing  an  equivalent  amount  of  the 
new  thoughts  and  emotions  which  were  nascent,  is  suddenly 
checked  in  its  flow.  The  channels  along  which  the  dis- 
charge was  about  to  take  place,  are  closed.  The  new  chan- 
nel opened — that  aiforded  by  the  appearance  and  proceed- 
ings of  the  kid — is  a  small  one  ;  the  ideas  and  feelings 
suggested  are  not  numerous  and  massive  enough  to  carry 
oflT  the  nervous  energy  to  be  expended.  The  excess  must 
therefore  discharge  itself  in  some  other  direction  ;  and 
in  the  way  already  explained,  there  results  an  efflux 
through  the  motor  nerves  to  various  classes  of  the  mus- 
cles, producing  the  half-convulsive  actions  we  terra 
laughter. 

This  explanation  is  in  harmony  with  the  fact,  that  when, 
among  several  persons  who  witness  the  same  ludicrous 
occurrence,  there  are  some  who  do  not  laugh  ;  it  is  because 
there  has  arisen  in  them  an  emotion  not  participatad  in  by 


DISCHARGE   OF   ARRESTED    FEELINGS.  205 

the  rest,  and  wliich  is  sufficiently  massive  to  absorb  all  the 
nascent  excitement.  Among  the  spectators  of  an  awkward 
tumble,  those  who  preserve  their  gravity  are  those  in  whom 
there  is  excited  a  degree  of  sympathy  with  the  sufferer, 
sufficiently  great  to  serve  as  an  outlet  for  the  feeling  which 
the  occurrence  had  turned  out  of  its  previous  course. 
Sometimes  anger  carries  off  the  arrested  current ;  and  so 
prevents  laughter.  An  instance  of  this  was  lately  furnished 
me  by  a  friend  who  had  been  witnessing  the  feats  at 
Franconi's.  A  tremendous  leap  had  just  been  made  by  an 
acrobat  over  a  number  of  horses.  The  clown,  seemingly 
envious  of  this  success,  made  ostentatious  preparation  for 
doing  the  like  ;  and  then,  taking  the  preliminary  run  with 
immense  energy,  stopped  short  on  reaching  the  first  horse, 
and  pretended  to  wipe  some  dust  from  its  hauriches.  In  the 
majority  of  the  s23ectators,  merriment  was  excited  ;  but  in 
my  friend,  wound  up  by  the  expectation  of  the  coming  leap 
to  a  state  of  great  nervous  tension,  the  effect  of  the  baulk 
was  to  produce  indignation.  Experience  thus  proves 
what  the  theory  implies :  namely,  that  the  discharge  of 
arrested  feelings  into  the  muscular  system,  takes  place 
only  in  the  absence  of  other  adequate  channels — does  not 
take  place  if  there  arise  other  feelings  equal  in  amount  to 
those  arrested. 

Evidence  still  more  conclusive  is  at  hand.  If  we  con- 
trast the  incongruities  which  produce  laughter  with  those 
which  do  not,  we  at  once  see  that  in  the  non-ludicrous  ones 
the  unexpected  state  of  feeling  aroused,  though  w^holly 
different  in  kind,  is  not  less  in  quantity  or  intensity. 
Among  incongruities  that  may  excite  anything  but  a  laugh, 
Mr.  Bain  instances — "  A  decrepit  man  under  a  heavy  bur- 
den, five  loaves  and  two  fishes  among  a  multitude,  and  all 
unfitness  and  gross  disproportion  ;  an  instrument  out  of 
tune,  a  fly  in  ointment,  snow  in  May,  Archimedes  studying 
geometry  in  a  siege,  and  all  discordant  things ;  a  wolf  in 


206  THE   PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LATJGHTEE. 

sheep's  clothing,  a  breach  of  bargain,  and  falsehood  in  gen- 
eral ;  the  multitude  taking  the  law  in  their  own  hands, 
and  everything  of  the  nature  of  disorder ;  a  corpse  at  a 
feast,  parental  cruelty,  filial  ingratitude,  and  whatever  is 
unnatural ;  the  entire  catalogue  of  the  vanities  given  by 
Solomon,  are  all  incongruous,  but  they  cause  feelings  of 
pain,  anger,  sadness,  loathing,  rather  than  mirth."  Now 
in  these  cases,  where  the  totally  unlike  state  of  conscious- 
ness suddenly  produced,  is  not  inferior  in  mass  to  the 
preceding  one,  the  conditions  to  laughter  are  not  ful- 
filled. As  above  shown,  laughter  naturally  results  only 
when  consciousness  is  unawares  transferred  from  great 
things  to  small — only  when  there  is  what  we  call  a  descend- 
mg  incongruity. 

And  now  observe,  finally,  the  fact,  alike  inferable  d 
priori  and  illustrated  in  experience,  that  an  ascending 
incongruity  not  only  fails  to  cause  laughter,  but  works  on 
the  muscular  system  an  efiect  of  exactly  the  reverse  kind. 
When  after  something  very  insignificant  there  arises  with- 
out anticipation  something  very  great,  the  emotion  we  call 
wonder  results  ;  and  this  emotion  is  accompanied  not  by 
an  excitement  of  the  muscles,  but  by  a  relaxation  of  them. 
In  children  and  country  people,  that  falling  of  the  jaw 
which  occurs  on  witnessing  something  that  is  imposing  and 
unexpected,  exemplifies  this  efi'ect.  Persons  who  have 
been  wonder-struck  at  the  production  of  very  striking 
results  by  a  seemingly  inadequate  cause,  are  frequently 
described  as  unconsciously  dropping  the  things  they  held 
in  their  hands.  Such  are  just  the  efiects  to  be  anticipated. 
After  an  average  state  of  consciousness,  absorbing  but  a 
small  quantity  of  nervous  energy,  is  aroused  without  the 
slightest  notice,  a  strong  emotion  of  awe,  terror,  or  admi- 
ration ;  joined  with  the  astonishment  due  to  an  apparent 
want  of  adequate  causation.  This  new  state  of  conscious- 
ness demands  far  more  nervous  energy  than  that  which  it 


VARIOUS   CHANNELS    OF   NERVOUS    DISCHARGE.  207 

has  suddenly  replaced  ;  and  this  increased  absorption  of 
nervous  energy  in  mental  changes,  involves  a  temporary 
diminution  of  the  outflow  in  other  directions :  whence  the 
pendent  jaw  and  the  relaxing  grasp. 

One  further  observation  is  worth  making.  Among  the 
several  sets  of  channels  into  which  surplus  feeling  might  bo 
discharged,  was  named  the  nervous  system  of  the  viscera. 
The  sudden  overflow  of  an  arrested  mental  excitement, 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  results  from  a  descending  incon- 
gruity, must  doubtless  stimulate  not  only  the  muscular  sys- 
tem, as  we  see  it  does,  but  also  the  internal  organs ;  the 
heart  and  stomach  must  come  in  for  a  share  of  the  dis- 
charge. And  thus  there  seems  to  be  a  good  physiological 
basis  for  the  j^opular  notion  that  mii'th-creating  excitement 
facilitates  digestion. 

Though  in  doing  so  I  go  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
the  immediate  topic,  I  may  fitly  point  out  that  the  method 
of  inquiry  here  followed,  is  one  which  enables  us  to 
•understand  various  phenomena  besides  those  of  laugh- 
ter. To  show  the  importance  of  pursuing  it,  I  will  in- 
dicate the  explanation  it  furnishes  of  another  familiar  class 
of  facts. 

All  know  how  generally  a  large  amount  of  emotion  dis- 
turbs the  action  of  the  intellect,  and  interferes  with  the 
power  of  expression.  A  speech  delivered  with  great 
facility  to  tables  and  chairs,  is  by  no  means  so  easily  deliv- 
ered to  an  audience.  Every  schoolboy  can  testify  that  his 
trepidation,  when  standing  before  a  master,  has  often  dis- 
abled him  from  repeating  a  lesson  which  he  had  duly 
learnt.  In  explanation  of  this  we  commonly  say  that  the 
attention  is  distracted — that  the  proper  train  of  ideas  is 
broken  by  the  intrusion  of  ideas  that  are  irrelevant.  But 
the  question  is,  in  what  manner  does  unusual  emotion 
produce   this   effect;  and    we   are   here   supplied   with   a 


208  THE   PHYSIOLOGY   OF   LAUGHTEK. 

tolerably  obvious  answer.  Tlie  re^^etition  of  a  lesson,  or 
set  speech  jDreviously  thought  out,  implies  the  flow  of  a 
very  moderate  amount  of  nervous  excitement  through  a 
comparatively  narrow  channel.  The  thing  to  be  done  is 
simjDly  to  caU  up  in  succession  certain  previously-arranged 
ideas — a  process  in  which  no  great  amount  of  mental 
energy  is  expended.  Hence,  when  there  is  a  large  quantity 
of  emotion,  which  must  be  discharged  in  some  direction  or 
other ;  and  when,  as  usually  happens,  the  restricted  series 
of  intellectual  actions  to  be  gone  through,  does  not  suffice 
to  carry  it  off;  there  result  discharges  along  other  channels 
besides  the  one  prescribed :  there  are  aroused  various 
ideas  foreign  to  the  train  of  thought  to  be  pursued ;  and 
these  tend  to  exclude  from  consciousness  those  which 
should  occupy  it. 

And  now  observe  the  meaning  of  those  bodily  actions 
si:)ontaneou8ly  set  up  under  these  circumstances.  The 
school-boy  saying  his  lesson,  commonly  has  his  fingers 
actively  engaged — perhaps  in  twisting  about  a  broken  pen, 
or  perhaps  squeezing  the  angle  of  his  jacket ;  and  if  told  to' 
keep  his  hands  still,  he  soon  again  falls  into  the  same  or  a 
similar  trick.  Many  anecdotes  are  current  of  public  speak- 
ers having  incurable  automatic  actions  of  this  class :  barris- 
ters who  perpetually  wound  and  unwound  pieces  of  tape  ; 
members  of  parliament  ever  jDutting  on  and  taking  off  their 
spectacles.  So  long  as  such  movements  are  unconscious, 
they  facilitate  the  mental  actions.  At  least  this  seems  a 
fair  inference  from  the  fact  that  confusion  fi*equently  re- 
sults from  putting  a  stop  to  them :  witness  the  case  nar- 
rated by  Sir  Walter  Scott  of  his  school-fellow,  who  became 
unable  to  say  his  lesson  after  the  removal  of  the  waistcoat- 
button  that  he  habitually  fingered  while  in  class.  But 
why  do  they  facilitate  the  mental  actions  ?  Clearly  be- 
cause they  draw  off  a  portion  of  the  surplus  nervous 
^^xcitement.     If,  as  above  exjjlained,  the  quantity  of  raen* 


MUSCULAR  MOVEMENT  AND   MENTAL   ACTION.         209 

tal  energy  generated  is  greater  than  can  find  vent  along 
the  narrow  channel  of  thought  that  is  o[)en  to  it ;  and  if, 
in  consequence,  it  is  apt  to  produce  confusion  by  rushing 
into  other  channels  of  thought ;  then  by  allowing  it  au 
exit  through  the  motor  nerves  into  the  muscular  system, 
the  pressure  is  diminished,  and  irrelevant  ideas  are  less 
Ukely  to  intrude  on  consciousness. 

This  further  illustration  will,  I  think,  justify  the  posi- 
tion that  something  may  be  achieved  by  pursuing  in  other 
cases  this  method  of  psychological  inquiry.  A  complete 
explanation  of  the  phenomena,  requires  us  to  trace  out 
all  the  consequences  of  any  given  state  of  conscious- 
ness ;  and  we  cannot  do  this  without  studying  the  effects, 
bodily  and  mental,  as  varying  in  quantity  at  each  other's 
expense.  We  should  probably  learn  much  if  we  in 
every  case  asked — Where  is  all  the  nervous  energy 
gone? 


V. 

THE  ORIGIN  AND  FUNCTION  OF  MUSIC 


%  1  yT  HEN  Carlo,  standing,  chained  to  his  kennel,  sees 
VV  his  master  in  the  distance,  a  slight  motion  of  the 
tail  indicates  his  but  faint  hope  that  he  is  about  to  be  let 
out.  A  much  more  decided  wagging  of  the  tail,  passing 
by-and-by  into  lateral  undulations  of  the  body,  follows  his 
master's  nearer  approach.  When  hands  are  laid  on  his 
collar,  and  he  knows  that  he  is  really  to  have  an  outing, 
his  jumping  and  wriggling  are  such  that  it  is  by  no  means 
easy  to  loose  his  fastenings.  And  when  he  finds  himself 
actually  free,  his  joy  expends  itself  in  bounds,  in  pirouettes, 
and  in  scourings  hither  and  thither  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 
Puss,  too,  by  erecting  her  tail,  and  by  every  time  raising 
her  back  to  meet  the  caressing  hand  of  her  mistress, 
similarly  expresses  her  gratification  by  certain  muscular 
actions ;  as  likewise  do  the  parrot  by  awkward  dancing 
on  his  perch,  and  the  canary  by  hopping  and  fluttering 
about  his  cage  with  unwonted  rapidity.  Under  emotions 
of  an  opposite  kind,  animals  equally  display  muscular 
excitement.  The  enraged  lion  lashes  his  sides  with  his 
tail,  knits  his  brows,  protrudes  his  claws.  The  cat  sets 
up  her  back ;  the  dog  retracts  his  upper  lij) ;  the  horse 
throws  back  his  ears.  And  in  the  struggles  of  creatures 
In  pain,  we  see  that  the  like  relation  holds  between  ex* 


EMOTION    PRODUCES    ACTION.  211 

citemeiit  of  the  muscles  and  excitement  of  the  nerves  of 
sensation. 

In  ourselves,  distinguished  from  lower  creatures  as  we 
are  by  feelings  alike  more  powerful  and  more  varied, 
parallel  facts  are  at  once  more  conspicuous  and  more  nu- 
merous. We  may  conveniently  look  at  them  in  groups. 
We  shall  find  that  pleasurable  sensations  and  painful  sen- 
sations, pleasurable  emotions  and  painful  emotions,  all 
tend  to  produce  active  demonstrations  in  proportion  to 
their  intensity. 

In  children,  and  even  in  adults  who  are  not  restrained 
by  regard  for  appearances,  a  highly  agreeable  taste  is 
followed  by  a  smacking  of  the  lips.  An  infant  will  laugh 
and  bound  in  its  nurse's  arms  at  the  sight  of  a  brilliant 
colour  or  the  hearing  of  a  new  sound.  People  are  apt  to 
beat  time  with  head  or  feet  to  music  which  particularly 
pleases  them.  In  a  sensitive  person  an  agreeable  perfume 
will  produce  a  smile ;  and  smiles  will  be  seen  on  the  faces 
of  a  crowd  gazing  at  some  splendid  burst  of  fireworks.- 
Even  the  pleasant  sensation  of  warmth  felt  on  getting  to 
the  fireside  out  of  a  winter's  storm,  will  similarly  express 
itself  in  the  face. 

Painful  sensations,  being  mostly  far  more  intense  than 
pleasurable  ones,  cause  muscular  actions  of  a  much  more 
decided  kind.  A  sudden  twinge  produces  a  convulsive 
start  of  the  whole  body.  A  pain  less  violent,  but  con- 
tinuous, is  accompanied  by  a  knitting  of  the  brows,  a  set- 
ting of  the  teeth  or  biting  of  the  lip,  and  a  contrac- 
tion of  the  features  generally.  Under  a  persistent  pain 
of  a  severer  kind,  other  muscular  actions  are  added : 
the  body  is  swayed  to  and  fro ;  the  hands  clench  any- 
thing they  can  lay  hold  of;  and  should  the  agony  rise 
Btill  higher,  the  sufierer  rolls  about  on  the  floor  almost  con 
vulsed. 

Though  more  varied,  the  natural  language  of  the  pleas- 


212  THE    ORIGIN   AND    FUNCTION    OF   MrSIC. 

arable  emotions  comes  within  the  same  generalization.  A 
smile,  which  is  the  commonest  expression  of  gratified  feel- 
ing, is  a  contraction  of  certain  facial  muscles ;  and  when 
the  smile  broadens  into  a  laugh,  we  see  a  more  violent  and 
more  general  muscular  excitement  produced  by  an  intenser 
gratification.  Rubbing  together  of  the  hands,  and  that 
other  motion  which  Dickens  somewhere  describes  as 
"  washing  with  impalpable  soap  in  invisible  water,"  have 
like  implications.  Children  may  often  be  seen  to  "jump 
for  joy."  Even  in  adults  of  excitable  temperament,  an 
action  approaching  to  it  is  sometimes  witnessed.  And 
dancing  has  all  the  world  through  been  regarded  as  natural 
to  an  elevated  state  of  mind.  Many  of  the  special  emo- 
tions show  themselves  in  special  muscular  actions.  The 
gratification  resulting  from  success,  raises  the  head  and 
gives  firmness  to  the  gait.  A  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand  is 
currently  taken  as  indicative  of  friendship.  Under  a  gush 
of  afiection  the  mother  clasps  her  child  to  her  breast,  feel- 
ing as  though  she  could  squeeze  it  to  death.  And  so  in 
sundry  other  cases.  Even  in  that  brightening  of  the  eye 
with  which  good  news  is  received  we  may  trace  the  same 
truth ;  for  this  appearance  of  greater  brilliancy  is  due  to 
an  extra  contraction  of  the  muscle  which  raises  the  eyelid, 
and  so  allows  more  light  to  fall  upon,  and  be  reflected  from, 
the  wet  surface  of  the  eyeball. 

The  bodily  indications  of  painful  emotions  are  equally 
numerous,  and  still  more  vehement.  Discontent  is  shown 
by  raised  eyebrows  and  wrinkled  forehead ;  disgust  by  a 
curl  of  the  lip  ;  ofience  by  a  pout.  The  impatient  man 
beats  a  tattoo  with  his  fingers  on  the  table,  swings  his  pen- 
dent leg  with  increasing  rapidity,  gives  needless  pokings  to 
the  fire,  and  presently  paces  with  hasty  strides  about  the 
room.  In  great  grief  there  is  wringing  of  the  hands,  and 
even  tearing  of  the  hair.  An  angry  child  stamps,  or  rolls 
on  its  back  and  kicks  its  heels  in  the  air  ;  and  in  manhood, 


FEELINGS   ACT   AS   MUSCULAR    STIMULI.  213 

anger,  first  showing  itself  in  frowns,  in  distended  nostrils, 
in  compressed  lips,  goes  on  to  produce  grinding  of  the 
teeth,  clenching  of  the  fingers,  blows  of  the  fist  on  the  ta- 
ble, and  perhaps  ends  in  a  violent  attack  on  the  offending 
person,  or  in  throwing  abont  and  breaking  the  furniture. 
From  that  pursing  of  the  mouth  indicative  of  slight  dis- 
pleasure, up  to  the  frantic  struggles  of  the  maniac,  we  shall 
find  that  mental  irritation  tends  to  vent  itself  in  bodily  ac- 
tivity. 

All  feelings,  then — sensations  or  emotions,  pleasurable 
or  painful — have  this  common  characteristic,  that  they  are 
muscular  stimuli.  Not  forgetting  the  few  apparently  ex- 
ceptional cases  in  which  emotions  exceeding  a  certain  inten- 
sity produce  prostration,  we  may  set  it  down  as  a  general 
law  that,  alike  in  man  and  animals,  there  is  a  direct  connec- 
tion between  feeling  and  motion  ;  the  last  growing  more 
vehement  as  the  first  growls  more  intense.  Were  it  allow- 
able here  to  treat  the  matter  scientifically,  we  might  trace 
this  general  law  down  to  the  principle  known  among  phys- 
iologists as  that  of  reflex  action*  Without  doing  this, 
however,  the  above  numerous  instances  justify  the  general- 
ization, that  mental  excitement  of  all  kinds  ends  in  excite- 
ment of  the  muscles  ;  and  that  the  two  preserve  a  more  or 
less  constant  ratio  to  each  other. 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  w^ith  The  Origin  and 
Function  of  Music  f "  asks  the  reader.  Very  much,  as 
we  shall  presently  see.  All  music  is  originally  vocal.  All 
vocal  sounds  are  produced  by  the  agency  of  certain  mus- 
cles. These  muscles,  in  common  with  those  of  the  body  at 
large,  are  excited  to  contraction  by  pleasurable  and  painful 
feelings.      And  therefore  it  is  that  feelings  demonstrate 

*  Those  who  seek  mformation  on  this  point  may  find  it  in  an  interest 
mg  tract  by  Mr.  Alexander  Bain,  on  Animal  Iiistinct  and  Intelligence. 


214  TBE    ORIGIN   AND   FUNCTION    OF    MUSIC. 

themselves  in  sounds  as  well  as  in  movements.  Therefore 
It  is  that  Carlo  barks  as  well  as  leaps  when  he  is  let  out — 
that  puss  purrs  as  well  as  erects  her  tail — that  the  canary 
chirps  as  well  as  flutters.  Therefore  it  is  that  the  angry 
lion  roars  while  he  lashes  his  sides,  and  the  dog  growls 
while  he  retracts  his  lip.  Therefore  it  is  that  the  maimed 
animal  not  only  struggles,  but  howls.  And  it  is  from  this 
cause  that  in  human  beings  bodily  suffering  expresses  itself 
not  only  in  contortions,  but  in  shrieks  and  groans— that  in 
anger,  and  fear,  and  grief,  the  gesticulations  are  accompa- 
nied by  shouts  and  screams — that  delightful  sensations  are 
followed  by  exclamations — and  that  we  hear  screams  of  joy 
and  shouts  of  exultation. 

We  have  here,  then,  a  principle  underlying  all  vocal 
phenomena  ;  including  those  of  vocal  music,  and  by  conse- 
quence those  of  music  in  general.  The  muscles  that  move 
the  chest,  larynx,  and  vocal  chords,  contracting  like  other 
muscles  in  proportion  to  the  intensity  of  the  feelings ;  ev- 
ery different  contraction  of  these  muscles  involving,  as  it 
does,  a  different  adjustment  of  the  vocal  organs ;  every  dif- 
ferent adjustment  of  the  vocal  organs  causing  a  change  in 
the  sound  emitted ; — it  follows  that  variations  of  voice  are 
the  physiological  results  of  variations  of  feeling ;  it  follows 
that  each  inflection  or  modulation  is  the  natural  outcome 
of  some  passing  emotion  or  sensation  ;  and  it  follows  that 
the  explanation  of  all  kinds  of  vocal  expression,  must  be 
sought  in  this  general  relation  between  mental  and  muscu- 
lar excitements.  Let  us,  then,  see  whether  we  cannot  thus 
account  for  the  chief  peculiarities  in  the  utterance  of  the 
feelings :  grouping  these  peculiarities  under  the  heads  of 
loudness^  quality^  or  timbre^  pitchy  intervals^  and  rate  of 
variation. 

Between  the  lungs  and  the  organs  of  voice,  there  is 
much  the  same  relation  as  between  the  bellows  of  an  organ 


VOCAL   SOUNDS    AND    STATES    OF   FEELING.  215 

and  its  jDipes.  And  as  the  loudness  of  tlie  sound  given  out 
by  an  organ-pipe  increases  with  the  strength  of  the  blast 
from  the  bellows  ;  so,  other  things  equal,  the  loudness  of  a 
vocal  sound  increases  with  the  strength  of  the  blast  from 
the  lungs.  But  the  expulsion  of  air  from  the  lungs  is  ef- 
fected by  certain  muscles  of  the  chest  and  abdomen.  The 
force  with  which  these  muscles  contract,  is  proportionate 
to  the  intensity  of  the  feeling  experienced.  Hence,  a  2^iori, 
loud  sounds  will  be  the  habitual  results  of  strong  feelings. 
That  they  are  so  we  have  daily  proof.  The  pain  which,  if 
moderate,  can  be  borne  silently,  causes  outcries  if  it  be- 
comes extreme.  While  a  slight  vexatio.i  makes  a  child 
whimper,  a  fit  of  passion  calls  forth  a  howl  that  disturbs 
the  neighbourhood.  When  the  voices  in  an  adjacent  room 
become  unusually  audible,  we  infer  anger,  or  surprise,  or 
joy.  Loudness  of  applause  is  significant  of  great  appro- 
bation ;  and  with  uproarious  mirth  we  associate  the  idea  of 
high  enjoyment.  Commencing  with  the  silence  of  apathy, 
we  find  that  the  utterances  grow  louder  as  the  sensations 
or  emotions,  whether  pleasurable  or  painful,  grow  stronger. 
That  difierent  qualities  of  voice  accompany  difierent 
mental  states,  and  that  under  states  of  excitement  the  tones 
are  more  sonorous  than  usual,  is  another  general  fact  ad- 
mitting of  a  parallel  explanation.  The  sounds  of  common 
conversation  have  but  little  resonance  ;  those  of  strong 
feeling  have  much  more.  Under  rising  ill  temper  the  voice 
acquires  a  metallic  ring.  In  accordance  with  her  constant 
mood,  the  ordinary  speech  of  a  virago  has  a  piercing  qual- 
ity quite  opposite  to  that  softness  indicative  of  placidity. 
A  ringing  laugh  marks  an  especially  joyous  temperament. 
Grief  unburdening  itself  uses  tones  approaching  in  timbre 
to  those  of  chanting :  and  in  his  most  pathetic  passages  an 
eloquent  speaker  similarly  falls  into  tones  more  vibratory 
than  those  common  to  him.  Now  any  one  may  readily 
convince  himself  that  resonant  vocal   sounds  can  be  pro- 


216  THE    OEIGIN   AND   FdNCTION    OF   MUSIC. 

diiced  only  by  a  certain  muscular  effort  additional  to  that 
ordinarily  needed.  If  after  uttering  a  word  in  his  speak- 
ing voice,  the  reader,  without  changing  the  pitch  or  the 
loudness,  will  si7ig  this  word,  he  will  perceive  that  before 
he  can  sing  it,  he  has  to  alter  the  adjustment  of  the  vocal 
organs  ;  to  do  which  a  certain  force  must  be  used  ;  and  by 
putting  his  fingers  on  that  external  j^rominence  marking 
the  top  of  the  larynx,  he  will  have  further  evidence  that  to 
produce  a  sonorous  tone  the  organs  must  be  drawn  out  of 
their  usual  position.  Thus,  then,  the  fact  that  the  tones  of 
excited  feeling  are  more  vibratory  than  those  of  common 
conversation,  is  another  instance  of  the  connexion  between 
mental  excitement  and  muscular  excitement.  The  speak- 
ing voice,  the  recitative  voice,  and  the  singing  voice,  sev- 
erally exemplify  one  general  principle. 

That  the  pitch  of  the  voice  varies  according  to  the  ac- 
tion of  the  vocal  muscles,  scarcely  needs  saying.  All  know 
that  the  middle  notes,  in  which  they  converse,  are  made 
without  any  appreciable  effort ;  and  all  know  that  to  make 
either  very  high  or  very  low  notes  requires  a  considerable 
effort.  In  either  ascending  or  descending  from  the  pitch 
of  ordinary  speech,  we  are  conscious  of  an  mcreasing  mus- 
cular strain,  which,  at  both  extremes  of  the  register,  be- 
comes positively  painful.  Hence  it  follows  from  our  gen- 
eral principle,  that  while  indifference  or  calmness  will  use 
the  medium  tones,  the  tones  used  during  excitement  will 
be  either  above  or  below  them  ;  and  will  rise  higher  and 
higher,  or  fall  lower  and  lower,  as  the  feelings  grow 
stronger.  This  physiological  deduction  we  also  find  to  be 
in  harmony  with  familiar  facts.  The  habitual  sufferer  ut- 
ters his  complaints  in  a  voice  raised  considerably  above  the 
natural  key ;  and  agonizing  pain  vents  itself  in  either 
shrieks  or  groans — in  very  high  or  very  low  notes.  Begin- 
ning at  his  talking  pitch,  the  cry  of  the  disappointed  urchin 
grows  more  shrill  as  it  grows  louder.     The   "  Oh  I  "  of  as- 


EMOTIONS    EXPRESSED   BY    PITCH.  217 

tonishment  or  delight,  begins  several  notes  below  the  raid 
die  voice,  and  descends  still  lower.  Anger  expresses  it 
self  in  high  tones,  or  else  in  "  curses  not  loud  but  <fee/)." 
Deep  tones,  too,  are  always  used  in  uttering  strong  re- 
proaches. Such  an  exclamation  as  "  Beware ! "  if  made 
dramatically — that  is,  if  made  with  a  show  of  feeling — 
must  be  many  notes  lower  than  ordinary.  Further,  we 
Lave  groans  of  disapprobation,  groans  of  horror,  groans 
of  remorse.  And  extreme  joy  and  fear  are  alike  accompa- 
nied by  shrill  outcries. 

Nearly  allied  to  the  subject  of  pitch,  is  that  of  inter- 
vals ^  and  the  explanation  of  them  carries  our  argument  a 
step  further.  While  calm  speech  is  comparatively  monot- 
onous, emotion  makes  use  of  fifths,  octaves,  and  even  wider 
intervals.  Listen  to  any  one  narrating  or  repeating  some- 
thing in  which  he  has  no  interest,  and  his  voice  will  not 
wander  more  than  two  or  three  notes  above  or  below  his 
medium  note,  and  that  by  small  steps  ;  but  when  he  comes 
to  some  exciting  event  he  will  be  heard  not  only  to  use  the 
higher  and  lower  notes  of  his  register,  but  to  go  from  one  to 
the  other  by  larger  leaps.  Being  unable  in  print  to  imitate 
these  traits  of  feeling,  we  feel  some  difficulty  in  fully  real- 
izing them  to  the  reader.  But  we  may  suggest  a  few  re- 
membrances which  will  perhaps  call  to  mind  a  sufficiency 
of  others.  If  two  men  living  in  the  same  place,  and  fre- 
quently seeing  one  another,  meet,  say  at  a  public  assembly, 
any  phrase  with  which  one  may  be  heard  to  accost  the 
other — as  "  Hallo,  are  you  here  ?  " — will  have  an  ordinary 
intonation.  But  if  one  of  them,  after  long  absence,  has 
unexpectedly  returned,  the  expression  of  surprise  with 
which  his  friend  may  greet  him — "  Hallo  !  how  came  you 
here  ?  " — will  be  uttered  in  much  more  strongly  contrasted 
tones.  The  two  syllables  of  the  word  "  Hallo  "  will  be, 
the  one  much  higher  and  the  other  much  lower  than  be- 
10 


218  THE   OEIGm   A2sT)   FrNCTION    OF   MTSIC. 

fore ;  and  the  rest  of  the  sentence  will  similarly  ascend  and 
descend  by  longer  steps. 

Again,  if,  supposing  her  to  be  in  an  adjoining  room,  the 
mistress  of  the  house  calls  "  Mary,"  the  two  syllables  of 
the  name  will  be  spoken  in  an  ascending  interval  of  a  third. 
If  Mary  does  not  reply,  the  call  will  be  repeated  probably 
in  a  descending  fifth ;  implying  the  slightest  shade  of  an- 
noyance at  Mary's  inattention.  Should  Mary  still  make 
no  answer,  the  increasing  annoyance  will  show  itself  by  the 
use  of  a  descending  octave  on  the  next  repetition  of  the 
calL  And  supposing  the  silence  to  continue,  the  lady,  if 
not  of  a  very  even  temper,  will  show  her  irritation  at 
Mary's  seemingly  intentional  negligence  by  finally  calling 
her  in  tones  still  more  widely  contrasted — the  first  syllable 
being  higher  and  the  last  lower  than  before. 

Now,  these  and  analogous  facts,  which  the  reader  will 
readily  accumulate,  clearly  conform  to  the  law  laid  down. 
For  to  make  large  intervals  requires  more  muscular  action 
than  to  make  small  ones.  But  not  only  is  the  extent  of  vo- 
cal  intervals  thus  explicable  as  due  to  the  relation  between 
nervous  and  muscular  excitement,  but  also  in  some  degree 
their  direction,,  as  ascending  or  descending.  The  middle 
notes  being  those  which  demand  no  appreciable  effort  of 
muscular  adjustment ;  and  the  effort  becoming  greater  as 
we  either  ascend  or  descend  ;  it  follows  that  a  departure 
from  the  middle  notes  in  either  direction  will  mark  increas- 
ing emotion  ;  while  a  return  towards  the  middle  notes  will 
mark  decreasing  emotion.  Hence  it  happens  that  an  en- 
thusiastic person  uttering  such  a  sentence  as — "  It  was  the 
most  splendid  sight  I  ever  saw  !  "  will  ascend  to  the  first 
syllable  of  the  word  "  splendid,"  and  thence  will  descend : 
the  word  "  splendid "  marking  the  climax  of  the  feeling 
produced  by  the  recollection.  Hence,  again,  it  happens 
that,  under  some  extreme  vexation  produced  by  another's 
stupidity,   an   irascible   man,  exclaiming — "  What   a  con- 


EMOTIONS    EXPRESSED   BY   INTERVALS.  219 

founded  fool  the  fellow  is  !  "  will  begin  somewhat  below  hia 
middle  voice,  and  descending  to  the  word  "  fool,"  which 
he  will  utter  in  one  of  his  deepest  notes,  will  then  ascend 
again.  And  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  word  "  fool " 
will  not  only  be  deeper  and  louder  than  the  rest,  but  will 
also  have  more  emphasis  of  articulation — another  mode  in 
which  muscular  excitement  is  shown. 

There  is  some  danger,  however,  in  giving  instances  like 
this ;  seeing  that  as  the  mode  of  rendering  will  vary  accor- 
ding to  the  intensity  of  the  feeling  which  the  reader  feigns 
to  himself,  the  right  cadence  may  not  be  hit  upon.  With 
single  words  there  is  less  difficulty.  Thus  the  "  Indeed  !  " 
with  which  a  surprising  fact  is  received,  mostly  begins  on 
the  middle  note  of  the  voice,  and  rises  with  the  second  syl- 
lable ;  or,  if  disapprobation  as  well  as  astonishment  is  felt, 
the  first  syllable  will  be  below  the  middle  note,  and  the 
second  lower  still.  Conversely,  the  word  "  Alas  1  "  which 
marks  not  the  rise  of  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  but  its  decline, 
is  uttered  in  a  cadence  descending  towards  the  middle 
note ;  or,  if  the  first  syllable  is  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
register,  the  second  ascends  towards  the  middle  note.  In 
the  "  Heigh-ho  !  "  expressive  of  mental  and  muscular  pros- 
tration, we  may  see  the  same  truth  ;  and  if  the  cadence  ap- 
propriate to  it  be  inverted  the  absurdity  of  the  effect  clearly 
shows  how  the  meaning  of  intervals  is  dependent  on  the 
principle  we  have  been  illustrating. 

The  remaining  characteristic  of  emotional  speech  which 
we  have  to  notice  is  that  of  variability  of  pitch.  It  is 
scarcely  possible  here  to  convey  adequate  ideas  of  this 
more  complex  manifestation.  We  must  be  content  with 
simply  indicating  some  occasions  on  which  it  may  be  ob- 
served. On  a  meeting  of  friends,  for  instance — as  when 
there  arris^es  a  party  of  much -wish  ed-for  visitors — the  voices 
of  all  will  be  heard  to  undergo  changes  of  pitch  not  only 
greater  but  much  more  numerous  than  usual.     If  a  speaker 


220  THE    ORIGIN   AST)   FUNCTION    OF   MUSIC. 

at  a  public  meeting  is  interrupted  by  some  squabble  among. 
those  he  is  addressing,  his  comparatively  level  tones  will 
be  in  marked  contrast  with  the  rapidly  changing  one  of  the 
disputants.  And  among  children,  whose  feelings  are  less 
under  control  than  those  of  adults,  this  peculiarity  is  still 
more  decided.  During  a  scene  of  complaint  and  recrimi- 
nation between  two  excitable  little  girls,  the  voices  may  be 
heard  to  run  up  and  down  the  gamut  several  times  in  each 
sentence.  In  such  cases  we  once  more  recognise  the  same 
law  :  for  muscular  excitement  is  shown  not  only  in  strength 
of  contraction  but  also  in  the  rapidity  with  which  different 
muscular  adjustments  succeed  each  other. 

Thus  we  find  all  the  leading  vocal  phenomena  to  have  a 
physiological  basis.  They  are  so  many  manifestations  of 
the  general  law  that  feeUng  is  a  stimulus  to  muscular  action 
—a  law  conformed  to  throughout  the  whole  economy,  not 
of  man  only,  but  of  every  sensitive  creature — a  law,  there- 
fore, which  Ues  deep  in  the  nature  of  animal  organization. 
The  expressiveness  of  these  various  modifications  of  voice 
is  therefore  innate.  Each  of  us,  from  babyhood  uj) wards, 
has  been  spontaneously  making  them,  when  under  the  va- 
rious sensations  and  emotions  by  which  they  are  produced. 
Having  been  conscious  of  each  feeling  at  the  same  time 
that  we  heard  ourselves  make  the  consequent  sound,  we 
have  acquired  an  established  association  of  ideas  between 
such  sound  and  the  feeling  which  caused  it.  When  the 
like  sound  is  made  by  another,  we  ascribe  the  like  feeling 
to  him ;  and  by  a  further  consequence  we  not  only  ascribe 
to  him  that  feeling,  but  have  a  certain  degree  of  it  aroused 
in  ourselves :  for  to  become  conscious  of  the  feeling  which 
another  is  exj^eriencing,  is  to  have  that  feeling  awakened 
in  our  o^vn  consciousness,  which  is  the  same  thing  as  expe- 
riencing the  feeling.  Thus  these  various  modifications  of 
voice  become  not  only  a  language  through  which  we  un- 
derstand the  emotions  of  others,  but  also  the  means  of  ex- 
citing  our  sympatliy  with  such  emotions. 


BASIS   OF   A  THEORY   OF   MUSIC.  221 

Have  we  not  here,  then,  adequate  data  for  a  theory  of 
music  ?  These  vocal  pecuharities  which  indicate  excited 
feehng,  are  those  which  especially  distinguish  song  from  or- 
dinary  speech.  Every  one  of  the  alterations  of  voice  which 
we  have  found  to  be  a  physiological  result  of  pain  or  pleas- 
ure, is  carried  to  its  greatest  extreme  hi  vocal  m.usic.  Fop 
instance,  we  saw  that,  in  virtue  of  the  general  relation  be- 
tween mental  and  muscular  excitement,  one  characteristic 
of  passionate  utterance  is  loudness.  Well,  its  comparative 
loudness  is  one  of  the  distinctive  marks  of  song  as  contrast- 
ed with  the  speech  of  daily  life ;  and  further,  the  forte 
passages  of  an  air  are  those  intended  to  represent  the  climax 
of  its  emotion.  We  next  saw  that  the  tones  in  which  emotion 
expresses  itself,  are,  in  conformity  with  this  same  law,  of  a 
more  sonorous  timbre  than  those  of  calm  conversation. 
Here,  too,  song  displays  a  still  higher  degree  of  tlie  pecu- 
liarity ;  for  the  singing  tone  is  the  most  resonant  we  can 
make.  Again,  it  was  shown  that,  from  a  like  cause,  men- 
tal excitement  vents  itself  in  the  higher  and  lower  notes 
of  the  register  ;  using  the  middle  notes  but  seldom.  And 
it  scarcely  needs  saying  that  vocal  music  is  still  more  dis- 
tinguished by  its  comparative  neglect  of  the  notes  in  which 
we  talk,  and  its  habitual  use  of  those  above  or  below  them 
and,  moreover,  that  its  most  passionate  eJBfects  are  common- 
ly  produced  at  the  two  extremities  of  its  scale,  but  especi- 
ally the  upper  one. 

A  yet  further  trait  of  strong  feeling,  similarly  accounted 
for,  was  the  employment  of  larger  intervals  than  are  em- 
ployed in  common  converse.  This  trait,  also,  every  ballad 
and  aria  carries  to  an  extent  beyond  that  heard  in  the 
spontaneous  utterances  of  emotion  :  add  to  which,  that  tho 
direction  of  these  intervals,  which,  as  diverging  from  or 
converging  towards  the  medium  tones,  we  found  to  be 
physiologically  expressive  of  increasing  or  decreasing  emo- 
Uon,   may  be   observed  to  have  in  music  like  meaninga 


222  THE   OEIGIN   JlSD   Fim-CTION   OF   MUSIC. 

Once  more,  it  was  pointed  out  that  not  only  extreme  but  also 
rapid  variations  of  pitch,  are  characteristic  of  mental  ex- 
citement ;  and  once  more  we  see  in  the  quick  changes  of 
every  melody,  that  song  carries  the  characteristic  as  far,  if 
not  farther.  Thus,  in  respect  aHke  of  loudness,  timbre, 
pitch,  intervals,  and  rate  of  variation,  song  emjDloys  and 
exaggerates  the  natural  language  of  the  emotions  ; — it  arises 
from  a  systematic  combination  of  those  vocal  peculiarities 
which  are  the  physiological  effects  of  acute  pleasure  and 
pain. 

Besides  these  chief  characteristics  of  song  as  distinguish- 
ed from  common  speech,  there  are  sundry  minor  ones 
similarly  explicable  as  due  to  the  relation  between  mental 
and  muscular  excitement ;  and  before  proceeding  further 
these  should  be  briefly  noticed.  Thus,  certain  passions, 
and  perhaps  all  passions  when  pushed  to  an  extreme,  pro- 
duce (probably  through  their  influence  over  the  action  of 
the  heart)  an  effect  the  reverse  of  that  which  has  been  de- 
scribed :  they  cause  a  physical  prostration,  one  symptom  of 
which  is  a  general  relaxation  of  the  muscles,  and  a  conse- 
quent trembling.  We  have  the  trembling  of  anger,  of 
fear,  of  hope,  of  joy ;  and  the  vocal  muscles  being  implicat- 
ed with  the  rest,  the  voice  too  becomes  tremulous.  Now, 
in  singing,  this  tremulousness  of  voice  is  very  effectively 
used  by  some  vocalists  in  highly  pathetic  passages  ;  some- 
times, indeed,  because  of  its  effectiveness,  too  much  used 
by  them — as  by  Tamberlik,  for  instance. 

Again,  there  is  a  mode  of  musical  execution  known  as 
the  staccato,  appropriate  to  energetic  passages — to  passages 
expressive  of  exhilaration,  of  resolution,  of  confidence. 
The  action  of  the  vocal  muscles  which  produces  this  stac- 
cato style,  is  analogous  to  the  muscular  action  which  pro- 
duces the  sharp,  decisive,  energetic  movements  of  body  in- 
dicating these  states  of  mind  ;  and  therefore  it  is  that  the 
Btaccato  Btyle  has  the  meaning  we  ascribe  to  it.     Converse 


KHYTHMIC   MOTION    UNDER   EXCITEMENT.  223 

ly,  slurred  intervals  are  expressive  of  gentler  and  less  active 
feelings  ;  and  are  so  because  tbey  imply  the  smaller  muscu- 
lar vivacity  due  to  a  lower  mental  energy.  The  diflerence 
of  effect  resulting  from  difference  of  time  in  music,  is  also 
attributable  to  the  same  law.  Already  it  has  been  pointed 
out  that  the  more  frequent  changes  of  pitch  which  ordina- 
rily result  from  passion,  are  imitated  and  developed  in  song  \ 
and  here  we  have  to  add,  that  the  various  rates  of  such 
changes,  appropriate  to  the  different  styles  of  music,  are 
further  traits  having  the  same  derivation.  The  slowest 
movements,  largo  and  adagio^  are  used  where  such  depress- 
ing emotions  as  grief,  or  such  unexciting  emotions  as  rev- 
erence, are  to  be  portrayed  ;  while  the  more  rapid  move 
ments,  andante^  allegro^  presto^  represent  successively  in- 
creasing degrees  of  mental  vivacity ;  and  do  this  because 
they  imply  that  muscular  activity  which  flows  from  this 
mental  vivacity.  Even  the  rhyth'}n^  which  forms  a  remain- 
ing distinction  between  song  and  speech,  may  not  improb- 
ably have  a  kindred  cause.  Why  the  actions  excited  by 
strong  feeling  should  tend  to  become  rhythmical,  is  not 
very  obvious ;  but  that  they  do  so  there  are  divers  eviden- 
ces. There  is  the  swaying  of  the  body  to  and  fro  under 
pain  or  grief,  of  the  leg  under  imj^atience  or  agitation. 
Dancing,  too,  is  a  rhythmical  action  natural  to  elevated  emo- 
tion. That  under  excitement  speech  acquires  a  certain 
rhythm,  we  may  occasionally  perceive  in  the  highest  efforts 
of  an  orator.  In  poetry,  which  is  a  form  of  speech  used 
for  the  better  expression  of  emotional  ideas,  we  have  this 
rhythmical  tendency  developed.  And  when  we  bear  in 
mind  that  dancing,  poetry,  and  music  are  connate — are  ori- 
ginally constituent  parts  of  the  same  thing,  it  becomes 
clear  that  the  measured  movement  common  to  them  all  im- 
plies a  rhythmical  action  of  the  whole  system,  the  vocal  ap- 
paratus included  ;  and  that  so  the  rhythm  of  music  is  a  more 
subtle  and  complex  result  of  this  relation  between  mental 
and  muscular  excitement. 


224  THE   OEIGIN   AND   FUNCTION    OF   MUSIC. 

But  it  is  time  to  end  this  analysis,  which,  possibly  we 
nave  already  carried  too  far.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
the  more  special  peculiarities  of  musical  expression  are  to 
be  definitely  explained.  Though  probably  they  may  all  in 
some  way  conform  to  the  principle  that  has  been  worked 
cut,  it  is  obviously  impracticable  to  trace  that  principle  in  its 
more  ramified  applications.  Xor  is  it  needful  to  our  argu- 
ment that  it  should  be  so  traced.  The  foregoing  facts 
sufficiently  prove  that  what  we  regard  as  the  distinctive 
traits  of  song,  are  simply  the  traits  of  emotional  speech  in- 
tensified and  systematized.  In  respect  of  its  general  char- 
acteristics, we  think  it  has  been  made  clear  that  vocal  mu- 
sic, and  by  consequence  all  music,  is  an  idealization  of  the 
natural  language  of  passion. 

As  far  as  it  goes,  the  scanty  evidence  furnished  by  his- 
tory confirms  this  conclusion.  Note  first  the  fact  (not 
properly  an  historical  one,  but  fitly  grouped  with  such) 
that  the  dance-chants  of  savage  tribes  are  very  monoton- 
ous ;  and  in  virtue  of  their  monotony  are  much  more  nearly 
allied  to  ordinary  speech  than  are  the  songs  of  civilized 
races.  Joining  with  this  the  fact  that  there  are  still  extant 
among  boatmen  and  others  in  the  East,  ancient  chants  of  a 
like  monotonous  character,  we  may  infer  that  vocal  music 
originally  diverged  from  emotional  speech  in  a  gradual, 
unobtrusive  manner  ;  and  this  is  the  inference  to  which 
our  argument  points.  Further  evidence  to  the  same 
efiect  is  supplied  by  Greek  history.  The  early  poems  of 
the  Greeks — which,  be  it  remembered,  were  sacred  le- 
gends embodied  in  that  rhythmical,  metaphorical  language 
which  strong  feeling  excites — were  not  recited,  but  chant- 
ed :  the  tones  and  the  cadences  were  made  musical  by  the 
game  influences  which  made  the  speech  poetical. 

By  those  who  have  mvestigated  the  matter,  this  chant- 
ing is  believed  to  have  been  not  what  we  caU  singing,  but 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   EMOTIONAL   8PEECH.  225 

nearly  allied  to  our  recitative-;  (far  simpler  indeed,  if  we 
may  judge  from  the  fact  that  the  early  Greek  lyre,  which 
had  but  foicr  strings,  was  played  in  u?u'so?i  with  the  voice, 
which  was  therefore  confined  to  four  notes  ; )  and  as  such, 
much  less  remote  from  common  speech  than  our  own  sing- 
ing is.  For  recitative,  or  musical  recitation,  is  in  all  res- 
pects intermediate  between  speech  and  song.  Its  average 
effects  are  not  so  loud  as  those  of  song.  Its  tones  are  less 
sonorous  in  timbre  than  those  of  song.  Commonly  it  di- 
verges to  a  smaller  extent  from  the  middle  notes — uses 
notes  neither  so  high  nor  so  low  in  pitch.  The  intervals 
habitual  to  it  are  neither  so  wide  nor  so  varied.  Its  rate 
of  variation  is  not  so  rapid.  And  at  the  same  time  that  its 
primary  rhythm  is  less  decided,  it  has  none  of  that  second- 
ary rhythm  produced  by  recurrence  of  the  same  or  parallel 
musical  phrases,  which  is  one  of  the  marked  character- 
istics of  song.  Thus,  then,  we  may  not  only  infer,  from 
the  evidence  furnished  by  existing  barbarous  tribes,  that 
the  vocal  music  of  pre-historic  times  was  emotional  speech 
very  slightly  exalted ;  but  we  see  that  the  earliest  vocal 
music  of  which  we  have  any  account,  differed  much  less 
from  emotional  speech  than  does  the  vocal  music  of  our 
days. 

That  recitative — ^beyond  which,  by  the  way,  the  Chinese 
and  Hindoos  seem  never  to  have  advanced — grew  naturally 
out  of  the  modulations  and  cadences  of  strong  feehng,  we 
have  indeed  still  current  evidence.  There  are  even  now 
to  be  met  with  occasions  on  which  strong  feeling  vents 
itself  in  this  form.  Whoever  has  been  joresent  when  a 
meeting  of  Quakers  was  addressed  by  one  of  their  preach- 
ers (whose  practice  it  is  to  speak  only  under  the  influence 
of  religious  emotion),  must  have  been  struck  by  the  quite 
unusual  tones,  like  those  of  a  subdued  chant,  in  which  the 
address  was  made.  It  is  clear,  too,  that  the  intoning  used 
m  some  churches,  is  representative  of  this  same  mental 
10* 


226  THE   OEIGm   AND   FIIKCTION    OF   MUSIC. 

State;  and  has  been  adopted  on  account  of  the  instinctively 
felt  congruity  between  it  and  the  contrition,  supplication 
or  reverence  verbally  expressed. 

And  if,  as  we  have  good  reason  to  believe,  recitative 
arose  by  degrees  out  of  emotional  speech,  it  becomes  mani- 
fest that  by  a  continuance  o.f  the  same  process  song  has 
arisen  out  of  recitative.  Just  as,  from  the  orations  and 
legends  of  savages,  expressed  in  the  metaphorical,  allegori- 
cal style  natural  to  them,  there  sprung  epic  poetry,  out  of 
which  lyric  poetry  was  afterwards  developed  ;  so,  from  the 
exalted  tones  and  cadences  in  which  such  orations  and  le- 
gends were  delivered,  came  the  chant  or  recitative  music, 
from  whence  lyrical  music  has  since  groA^Ti  up.  And  there 
has  not  only  thus  been  a  simultaneous  and  parallel  genesis, 
but  there  is  also  a  parallelism  of  results.  For  lyrical  poetry 
differ^  from  epic  poetry,  just  as  lyrical  music  differs  from 
recitative :  each  still  further  intensifies  the  natural  language 
of  the  emotions.  Lyrical  poetry  is  more  metaphorical, 
more  hyperbolic,  more  elliptical,  and  adds  the  rhythm  of 
lines  to  the  rhythm  of  feet ;  just  as  lyrical  music  is  louder, 
more  sonorous,  more  extreme  in  its  intervals,  and  adds  the 
rhythm  of  phrases  to  the  rhythm  of  bars.  And  the  known 
fact  that  out  of  ej^ic  poetry  the  stronger  passions  developed 
lyrical  j^oetry  as  their  appropriate  vehicle,  strengthens  the 
inference  that  they  similarly  developed  lyrical  music  out  of 
recitative. 

Xor  indeed  are  we  without  evidences  of  the  transition. 
It  needs  but  to  listen  to  an  opera  to  hear  the  leading  gra- 
dations. Between  the  comparatively  level  recitative  of 
ordinary  dialogue,  the  more  varied  recitative  with  wider 
intervals  and  higher  tones  used  in  exciting  scenes,  the 
still  more  musical  recitative  which  preludes  an  air,  and 
the  air  itself,  the  successive  steps  are  but  small;  and 
the  fact  that  among  airs  themselves  gradations  of  like 
nature   may  be   traced,    further    confirms   the   conclusion 


SENSIBILITY    OF   MUSICAL   COIUPOSERS.  22"? 

that  the  highest  form  of  vocal  music  was  arrived  at  by 
degrees. 

Moreover,  we  have  some  chie  to  the  influences  which 
have  induced  this  development ;  and  may  roughly  conceive 
the  process  of  it.  As  the  tones,  intervals,  and  cadences  of 
strong  emotion  were  the  elements  out  of  which  song  was 
elaborated ;  so,  we  may  expect  to  find  that  still  stronger 
emotion  produced  the  elaboration  :  and  we  have  evidence 
implying  this.  Instances  in  abundance  may  be  cited,  show- 
ing that  musical  composers  are  men  of  extremely  acute 
sensibilities.  The  Life  of  Mozart  depicts  him  as  one  of 
intensely  active  affections  and  highly  impressionable  tem- 
perament. Various  anecdotes  rej^resent  Beethoven  as 
very  susceptible  and  very  passionate.  Mendelssohn  is  de- 
scribed by  those  who  knew  him  to  have  been  full  of  fine 
feeling.  And  the  almost  incredible  sensitiveness  of  Chopin 
has  been  illustrated  in  the  memoirs  of  George  Sand.  An 
unusually  emotional  nature  bemg  thus  the  general  charac- 
teristic of  musical  composers,  we  have  in  it  just  the  agency 
required  for  the  development  of  recitative  and  song.  In- 
tenser  feeling  producing  intenser  manifestations,  any  cause 
of  excitement  will  call  forth  from  such  a  nature,  tones  and 
changes  of  voice  more  marked  than  those  called  forth  from 
an  ordinary  nature— will  generate  just  those  exaggerations 
which  we  have  found  to  distinguish  the  lower  vocal  music, 
from  emotional  speech,  and  the  higher  vocal  music  from 
the  lower.  Thus  it  becomes  credible  that  the  four-toned 
recitative  of  the  early  Greek  poets  (like  all  poets,  nearly 
allied  to  composers  in  the  comparative  intensity  of  their 
feelings),  was  really  nothing  more  than  the  slightly  ex- 
aggerated emotional  speech  natural  to  them,  which  grew 
by  fi-equent  use  into  an  organized  form.  And  it  is  readily 
conceivable  that  the  accumulated  agency  of  subsequent 
poet-musicians,  inheriting  and  adding  to  the  products 
of  those  who  went  before  them,  sufiiced,  in  the  course  of 


228  THE   OEIGIN    AXD   FTJXCTIOX   OF   MrSIC. 

the  ten  centuries  which  we  know  it  took,  to  develope  this 
four-toned  recitative  into  a  vocal  music  having  a  range  of 
two  octaves. 

Xot  only  may  we  so  understand  how  more  sonorous 
tones,  greater  extremes  of  pitch,  and  wider  intervals,  wer« 
gradually  introduced ;  but  also  how  there  arose  a  greater 
variety  and  complexity  of  musical  expression.  For  this 
same  passionate,  enthusiastic  temperament,  which  naturally 
leads  the  musical  composer  to  express  the  feelings  possessed 
by  others  as  well  as  himself,  in  extremer  intervals  and  more 
marked  cadences  than  they  would  use,  also  leads  him  to 
give  musical  utterance  to  feelings  which  they  either  do  not 
experience,  or  experience  in  but  slight  degrees.  In  virtue 
of  this  general  susceptibility  which  distinguishes  him,  he 
regards  with  emotion,  events,  scenes,  conduct,  character, 
which  produce  upon  most  men  no  appreciable  effect.  The 
emotions  so  generated,  compounded  as  they  are  of  the  sim- 
pler emotions,  are  not  expressible  by  intervals  and  cadences 
natural  to  these,  but  by  combinations  of  such  intervals  and 
cadences  :  whence  arise  more  involved  musical  phr5<ses, 
conveying  more  complex,  subtle,  and  unusual  feeHrgs. 
And  thus  we  may  in  some  measure  understand  how  it  bap- 
pens  that  music  not  only  so  strongly  excites  our  mire 
familiar  feelings,  but  also  produces  feelings  we  never  lad 
before — arouses  dormant  sentiments  of  which  we  had  not 
conceived  the  possibility  and  do  not  know  the  meaning ; 
or,  as  Richter  says — tells  us  of  things  we  have  not  seen  and 
shall  not  see. 

Indirect  evidences  of  several  kinds  remain  to  be  briefly 
pointed  out.  One  of  them  is  the  difliculty,  not  to  say  im- 
possibility, of  otherwise  accounting  for  the  expressiveness 
of  music.  Whence  comes  it  that  special  combinations  of 
notes  should  have  special  effects  upon  our  emotions  ? — that 
one  should  give  us  a  feeling  of  exhilaration,  another  of 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION  OF  MUSICAL  EFFECTS.    229 

melancholy,  another  of  affection,  another  of  reverence  ? 
Is  it  that  these  special  combinations  have  intrinsic  mean- 
ings a2)art  from  the  human  constitution  ? — that  a  certain 
number  of  aerial  waves  per  second,  followed  by  a  certain 
other  number,  in  the  nature  of  things  signify  grief,  while 
in  the  reverse  order  they  signify  joy ;  and  similarly  with 
all  other  intervals,  phrases,  and  cadences  ?  Few  will  be  so 
irrational  as  to  think  this.  Is  it,  then,  that  the  meanings 
of  these  special  combinations  are  conventional  only  ? — that 
we  learn  their  implications,  as  we  do  those  of  words,  by 
observing  how  others  understand  them  ?  This  is  an  hy- 
pothesis not  only  devoid  of  evidence,  but  directly  opposed 
to  the  experience  of  every  one.  How,  then,  are  musical 
effects  to  be  explained  ?  If  the  theory  above  set  forth  be 
accepted,  the  difficulty  disappears.  If  music,  taking  for  its 
raw  material  the  various  modifications  of  voice  which  are 
the  physiological  results  of  excited  feelingj  intensifies,  com- 
bines, and  complicates  them — if  it  exaggerates  the  loud- 
ness, the  resonance,  the  pitch,  the  intervals,  and  the  varia- 
bility, which,  in  virtue  of  an  organic  law,  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  passionate  speech — if,  by  carrying  out  these  fur- 
ther, more  consistently,  more  unitedly,  and  more  sus- 
tainedly,  it  produces  an  idealized  language  of  emotion ; 
then  its  power  over  us  becomes  comprehensible.  But  in 
the  absence  of  this  theory,  the  expressiveness  of  music  ap- 
pears to  be  inexplicable. 

Again,  the  preference  we  feel  for  certain  qualities  of 
sound  presents  a  like  difficulty,  admitting  only  of  a  like 
Bolution.  It  is  generally  agreed  that  the  tones  of  the  hu- 
man voice  are  more  pleasing  than  any  others.  Grant  that 
music  takes  its  rise  from  the 'modulations  of  the  human 
voice  under  emotion,  and  it  becomes  a  natural  consequence 
that  the  tones  of  that  voice  should  appeal  to  our  feelings 
more  than  any  others ;  and  so  should  be  considered  more 
beautiful  than  any  others.     But  deny  that  music  has  this 


230  THE    ORIGIN   AND   FUNCTION    OF   MUSIC. 

origin,  and  the  only  alternative  is  the  untenable  position 
that  the  vibrations  i^roceeding  from  a  vocalist's  throat  are, 
objectively  considered,  of  a  higher  order  than  those  from  a 
horn  or  a  violin.  Similarly  with  harsh  and  soft  sounds. 
If  the  conclusiveness  of  the  foregoing  reasonings  be  not 
admitted,  it  must  be  supposed  that  the  vibrations  causing 
the  last  are  intrinsically  better  than  those  causing  the  first ; 
and  that,  in  virtue  of  some  pre-established  harmony,  the 
higher  feelings  and  natures  produce  the  one,  and  the  lower 
the  Other.  But  if  the  foregoing  reasonings  be  valid,  it 
follows,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  we  shall  like  the 
sounds  that  habitually  accompany  agreeable  feelings,  and 
dislike  those  that  habitually  accompany  disagreeable  feel- 
ings. 

Once  more,  the  question — How  is  the  expressiveness  of 
music  to  be  otherwise  accounted  for  ?  may  be  supplement- 
ed by  the  question — How  is  the  genesis  of  music  to  be 
otherwise  accounted  for  ?  That  music  is  a  product  of  civ- 
ilization is  manife^st ;  for  though  savages  have  their  dance- 
chants,  these  are  of  a  kind  scarcely  to  be  dignified  by 
the  title  musical :  at  most,  they  supply  but  the  vaguest 
rudiment  of  music,  properly  so  called.  And  if  music 
has  been  by  slow  steps  developed  in  the  course  of  civili- 
zation, it  must  have  been  developed  out  of  something. 
If,  then,  its  origin  is  not  that  above  alleged,  what  is  its 
origin  ? 

Thus  we  find  that  the  negative  evidence  confirms  the 
positive,  and  that,  taken  together,  they  furnish  strong 
proof.  We  have  seen  that  there  is  a  physiological  relation, 
common  to  man  and  all  animals,  between  feeling  and  mus- 
cular action  ;  that  as  vocal  sounds  are  produced  by  muscu- 
lar action,  there  is  a  consequent  physiological  relation  be- 
tween feeling  and  vocal  sounds  ;  that  all  the  modifications 
of  voice  expressive  of  feeling  are  the  direct  results  of  this 
physiological  relation  ;  that  music,  adopting  all  these  modi 


ITS   INDIRECT   BENEFITS    AND   PLEASURES.  231 

fications,  intensifies  them  more  and  more  as  it  ascends  to 
its  higher  and  higher  forms,  and  becomes  music  simply  in 
virtue  of  thus  intensifying  them ;  that,  from  the  ancient 
epic  poet  chanting  his  verses,  down  to  the  modern  musical 
composer,  men  of  unusually  strong  feelings  prone  to  express 
them  in  extreme  forms,  have  been  naturally  the  agents  of 
these  successive  intensifications ;  and  that  so  there  has 
Httle  by  little  arisen  a  wide  divergence  between  this  ideal- 
ized language  of  emotion  and  its  natural  language :  to 
which  direct  evidence  we  have  just  added  the  indirect 
— that  on  no  other  tenable  hypothesis  can  either  the 
expressiveness  or  the  genesis  of  music  be  explained. 

And  now,  what  is  the  fu7iction  of  music  ?  Has  music 
any  effect  beyond  the  immediate  jDleasure  it  produces  ? 
Analogy  suggests  that  it  has.  The  enjoyments  of  a  good 
dinner  do  not  end  with  themselves,  but  minister  to  bodily 
well-being.  Though  people  do  not  marry  with  a  view  to 
maintain  the  race,  yet  the  passions  which  impel  them  to 
marry  secure  its  maintenance.  Parental  affection  is  a  feel- 
ing which,  while  it  conduces  to  parental  happiness,  ensures 
the  nurture  of  offspring.  Men  love  to  accumulate  property, 
often  without  thought  of  the  benefits  it  produces ;  but  in 
pursuing  the  pleasure  of  acquisition  they  indirectly  open  the 
way  to  other  pleasures.  The  wish  for  public  approval  im- 
pels all  of  us  to  do  many  things  which  w^e  should  otherwise 
not  do, — to  undertake  great  labours,  face  great  dangers, 
and  habitually  rule  ourselves  in  a  way  that  smooths  social 
intercourse  :  that  is,  in  gratifying  our  love  of  approbation 
we  subserve  divers  ulterior  purposes.  And,  generally,  our 
nature  is  such  that  in  fulfilling  each  desire,  we  in  some  way 
facilitate  the  fulfilment  of  the  rest.  But  the  love  of  music 
fleems  to  exist  for  its  own  sake.  The  delights  of  melody 
and  harmony  do  not  obviously  minister  to  the  welfare 
either  of  the  individual  or  of  society.     May  we  not  suspect. 


232  THE  (miGm  akd  fijkction  of  music. 

however,  that  this  exception  is  apparent  only  ?  Is  it  not 
a  rational  inquiry — What  are  the  indirect  benefits  which 
accrue  from  music,  in  addition  to  the  direct  pleasure  it 
gives  ? 

But  that  it  would  take  us  too  far  out  of  our  track,  we 
should  prelude  this  inquiry  by  illustrating  at  some  length  a 
certain  general  law  of  progress  ; — the  law  that  alike  in  oc- 
cupations, sciences,  arts,  the  divisions  that  had  a  common 
root,  but  by  continual  divergence  have  become  distinct, 
and  are  now  being  separately  developed,  are  not  truly  in- 
dependent, but  severally  act  and  react  on  each  other  to 
their  mutual  advancement.  Merely  hinting  thus  much, 
however,  by  way  of  showing  that  there  are  many  analogies 
to  justify  us,  we  go  on  to  exj^ress  the  opinion  that  there 
exists  a  relationship  of  this  kind  between  music  and 
speech. 

All  speech  is  compounded  of  two  elements,  the  words 
and  the  tones  in  which  they  are  uttered — the  signs  of  ideas 
and  the  sis:ns  of  feeling^s.  While  certain  articulations  ex- 
press  the  thought,  certain  vocal  sounds  express  the  more 
or  less  of  pain  or  pleasure  which  the  thought  gives.  Using 
the  word  cadence  in  an  unusually  extended  sense,  as  com- 
prehending all  modifications  of  voice,  we  may  say  that 
cadence  is  the  commentary  of  the  emotions  upon  the  2yropO' 
sitions  of  the  intellect.  This  duality  of  spoken  language, 
though  not  formally  recognised,  is  recognised  in  practice 
by  every  one  ;  and  every  one  knows  that  very  often  more 
weight  attaches  to  the  tones  than  to  the  words.  Daily  ex- 
perience supplies  cases  in  which  the  same  sentence  of  dis- 
approval will  be  understood  as  meaning  little  or  meaning 
much,  according  to  the  inflections  of  voice  which  accom- 
pany it ;  and  daily  experience  supplies  still  more  striking 
cases  in  which  words  and  tones  are  in  direct  contradiction 
-^the  first  expressing  consent,  while  the  last  express  reluc. 
tance  ;  and  the  last  being  believed  rather  than  the  first. 


IT  DEVEL0PE8  THE  LANGUAGE  OF  THE  EMOTIONS.      233 

These  two  distinct  but  interwoven  elements  of  speech 
have  been  undergoing  a  simultaneous  development.  We 
know  that  in  the  course  of  civilization  words  have  been 
multiplied,  new  j^arts  of  speech  have  been  introduced,  sen- 
tences have  grown  more  varied  and  complex ;  and  we  ma^ 
fairly  infer  that  during  the  same  time  new  modifications  of 
voice  have  come  into  use,  fresh  intervals  have  been  adopt- 
ed, and  cadences  have  become  more  elaborate.  For  while, 
on  the  one  hand,  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that,  along  with 
the  undeveloped  verbal  forms  of  barbarism,  there  existed 
a  developed  system  of  vocal  inflections  ;  it  is,  on  the  other 
hand,  necessary  to  suppose  that,  along  with  the  higher  and 
more  numerous  verbal  forms  needed  to  convey  the  multi- 
plied and  complicated  ideas  of  civilized  life,  there  have 
grown  up  those  more  involved  changes  of  voice  which  ex- 
press the  feelings  proper  to  such  ideas.  If  intellectual  lan- 
guage is  a  growth,  so  also,  without  doubt,  is  emotional  lan- 
guage a  growth. 

Now,  the  hypothesis  which  we  have  hinted  above,  is, 
that  beyond  the  direct  pleasure  which  it  gives,  music  has 
the  indirect  effect  of  developing  this  language  of  the  emo- 
tions. Having  its  root,  as  we  have  endeavoured  to  show, 
in  those  tones,  intervals,  and  cadences  of  speech  which  ex- 
press feeling — arising  by  the  combination  and  intensifying 
of  these,  and  coming  finally  to  have  an  embodiment  of  its 
own ;  music  has  all  along  been  reacting  upon  speech,  and 
increasing  its  power  of  rendering  emotion.  The  use  in  re- 
citative and  song  of  inflections  more  expressive  than  ordi- 
nary ones,  must  from  the  beginning  have  tended  to  devel- 
ope  the  ordinary  ones.  Familiarity  with  the  more  varied 
combir.ations  of  tones  that  occur  in  vocal  music,  can 
scarcely  have  failed  to  give  greater  variety  of  combination 
to  the  tones  in  which  we  utter  our  impressions  and  desires. 
The  complex  musical  phrases  by  which  composers  have 
conveyed  complex  emotions,  may  rationally  be  supposed  to 


234  THE    OEIGIN    AND   FUNCTION    OF   MTJSIC. 

have  iufluenced  us  in  making  those  involved  cadences  of 
conversation  by  which  we  convey  our  subtler  thoughts  and 
feelings. 

That  the  cultivation  of  music  has  no  effect  on  the  mind, 
few  will  be  absurd  enough  to  contend.  And  if  it  has  an 
effect,  what  more  natural  effect  is  there  than  this  of  devel- 
oping our  perception  of  the  meanings  of  inflections,  quali- 
ties, and  modulations  of  voice ;  and  giving  us  a  corres- 
pondingly increased  power  of  using  them  ?  Just  as  mathe- 
matics, taking  its  start  from  the  jDhenomena  of  physics 
and  astronomy,  and  presently  coming  to  be  a  separate  sci- 
ence, has  since  reacted  on  physics  and  astronomy  to  their 
immense  advancement — just  as  chemistry,  first  arising  out 
of  the  processes  of  metallurgy  and  the  industrial  arts,  and 
gradually  growing  into  an  independent  study,  has  now  be- 
come an  aid  to  all  kinds  of  production — -just  as  physiology, 
originating  out  of  medicine  and  once  subordinate  to  it,  but 
latterly  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  is  in  our  day  coming  to 
be  the  science  on  which  the  progress  of  medicine  depends ; 
■ — so,  music,  having  its  root  in  emotional  language,  and 
gradually  evolved  from  it,  has  ever  been  reacting  upon  and 
further  advancing  it.  Whoever  will  examine  the  facts,  will 
find  this  hypothesis  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  method  of 
civilization  everywhere  displayed. 

It  will  scarcely  be  expected  that  much  direct  evidence 
in  support  of  this  conclusion  can  be  given.  The  facts  are 
of  a  kind  which  it  is  difficult  to  measure,  and  of  which  we 
have  no  records.  Some  suggestive  traits,  however,  may 
be  noted.  May  we  not  say,  for  instance,  that  the  Italians, 
among  whom  modern  music  was  earliest  cultivated,  and 
who  have  more  especially  practised  and  excelled  in  melody 
(the  division  of  music  ^vith  which  our  argument  is  chiefly 
concerned) — may  we  not  say  that  these  Italians  speak  in 
more  varied  and  exj^ressive  inflections  and  cadences  than 
any  other  nation  ?     On  the  other  hand,  may  we  not  say 


IMPORTANCE   OF   EMOTIONAL   LANGUAGE.  235 

* 

tliat,  confined  almost  exclusively  as  they  have  hitherto 
been  to  their  national  airs,  which  have  a  marked  family 
likeness,  and  therefore  accustomed  to  but  a  limited  range 
of  musical  expression,  the  Scotch  are  unusually  monotonous 
in  the  intervals  and  modulations  of  their  speech  ?  And 
again,  do  we  not  find  among  difierent  classes  of  the  same 
nation,  dificrences  that  have  like  implications  ?  The  gen- 
tleman and  the  clown  stand  in  very  decided  contrast  with 
respect  to  variety  of  intonation.  Listen  to  the  conversa- 
tion of  a  servant-girl,  and  then  to  that  of  a  refined,  accom- 
plished lady,  and  the  more  delicate  and  complex  changes 
of  voice  used  by  the  latter  will  be  conspicuous.  Now, 
without  going  so  far  as  to  say  that  out  of  all  the  differences 
of  culture  to  which  the  upper  and  lower  classes  are  sub- 
jected, difi^erence  of  musical  culture  is  that  to  which  alone 
this  difierence  of  speech  is  ascribable  ;  yet  we  may  fairly 
say  that  there  seems  a  much  more  obvious  connexion  of 
cause  and  effect  between  these  than  between  any  others. 
Thus,  while  the  inductive  evidence  to  which  we  can  appeal 
is  but  scanty  and  vague,  yet  what  there  is  favours  our  posi- 
tion. 

Probably  most  will  think  that  the  function  here  assigned 
to  music  is  one  of  very  little  moment.  But  further  reflec- 
tion may  lead  them  to  a  contrary  conviction.  In  its  bear- 
ings upon  human  happiness,  we  believe  that  this  emotional 
language  which  musical  culture  developes  and  refines,  is 
only  second  in  importance  to  the  language  of  the  intellect ; 
perhaps  not  even  second  to  it.  For  these  modifications 
of  voice  produced'  by  feelings,  are  the  means  of  exciting 
like  feehngs  in  others.  Joined  with  gestures  and  expres- 
sions of  face,  they  give  life  to  the  otherwise  dead  words  in 
which  the  intellect  utters  its  ideas ;  and  so  enable  the 
hearer  not  only  to  understand  the  state  of  mind  they  ac- 
company, but  to  partake  of  that  state.    In  short,  they  are 


236  TPIE   OEIGm   AOT)   FTIN-CTIOX    OF   MUSIC. 

the  chief  media  of  sympathy.  And  if  we  consider  how 
much  both  our  general  welfare  and  our  immediate  pleas- 
ures depend  upon  sympathy,  we  shall  recognise  the  import- 
ance of  whatever  makes  this  sympathy  greater.  If  we 
bear  in  mind  that  by  tneir  fellow-feeling  men  are  led  to  be- 
have justly,  kindly  and  considerately  to  each  other — that 
the  difference  between  the  cruelty  of  the  barbarous  and 
the  humanity  of  the  civilized,  results  from  the  increase  of 
fellow-feeling  ;  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  this  faculty  which 
makes  us  sharers  in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others,  is  the 
basis  of  all  the  higher  affections — that  in  friendship,  love, 
and  all  domestic  pleasures,  it  is  an  essential  element ;  if  we 
bear  in  mind  how  much  our  direct  gratifications  are  inten- 
sified by  sympathy, — how,  at  the  theatre,  the  concert,  the 
picture  gallery,  we  lose  half  our  enjoyment  if  we  have  no 
one  to  enjoy  with  us  ;  if,  in  short,  we  bear  in  mind  that  for 
all  happiness  beyond  what  the  unfriended  recluse  can  have, 
we  are  indebted  to  this  same  sympathy ; — we  shall  see  that 
the  agencies  which  communicate  it  can  scarcely  be  over- 
rated in  value. 

The  tendency  of  civilization  is  more  and  more  to  re- 
press the  antagonistic  elements  of  our  characters  and  to 
develope  the  social  ones — to  curb  our  purely  selfish  desires 
and  exercise  our  unselfish  ones — to  replace  private  gratifi- 
cations by  gratifications  resulting  from,  or  involving,  the 
happiness  of  others.  And  while,  by  this  adaj^tation  to  the 
social  state,  the  sympathetic  side  of  our  nature  is  being  un- 
folded, there  is  simultaneously  growing  up  a  language  of 
sympathetic  intercourse — a  language  through  w^hich  we 
communicate  to  others  the  happiness  we  feel,  and  are  made 
sharers  in  their  happiness. 

This  double  process,  of  which  the  effects  are  already 
sufficiently  appreciable,  must  go  on  to  an  extent  of  which 
we  can  as  yet  have  no  adequate  conception.  The  habitual 
concealment  of  our  feelings  diminishing,  as  it  must,  in  pro- 


FUTURE    GROWTH    OF    EMOTIONAL    LANGUAGE.  237 

portion  as  our  feelings  become  such  as  do  not  demand  con- 
cealment, we  may  conclude  that  the  exhibition  of  them  will 
become  much  more  vivid  than  we  now  dare  allow  it  to  be; 
and  this  implies  a  more  expressive  emotional  language. 
At  the  same  time,  feelings  of  a  higher  and  more  complex 
kind,  as  yet  experienced  only  by  the  cultivated  few,  will 
become  general ;  and  there  will  be  a  corresponding  devel- 
opment of  the  emotional  language  into  more  involved 
forms.  Just  as  there  has  silently  grown  up  a  language  of 
ideas,  which,  rude  as  it  at  first  was,  now  enables  us  to  con- 
vey with  precision  the  most  subtle  and  complicated 
thoughts  ;  so,  there  is  still  silently  growing  up  a  language 
of  feelings,  which  notwithstanding  its  present  imperfection,, 
we  may  expect  will  ultimately  enable  men  vividly  and  com- 
pletely to  impress  on  each  other  all  the  emotions  which 
they  experience  from  moment  to  moment. 

Thus  if,  as  we  have  endeavoured  to  show,  it  is  the  func- 
tion of  music  to  facilitate  the  development  of  this  emo- 
tional language,  \^e  may  regard  music  as  an  aid  to  the 
achievement  of  that  higher  happiness  which  it  indistinctly 
shadows  forth.  Those  vague  feelings  of  unexperienced  fe- 
licity which  music  arouses — those  indefinite  impressions  of 
an  unknown  ideal  life  which  it  calls  up,  may  be  considered 
as  a  prophecy,  to  the  fulfilment  of  which  music  is  itself 
partly  instrumental.  The  strange  capacity  which,  we  have 
for  being  so  affected  by  melody  and  harmony,  may  be  taken 
to  imply  both  that  it  is  within  the  possibiUties  of  our  na- 
ture to  realize  those  intenser  delights  they  dimly  suggest, 
and  that  they  are  in  some  way  concerned  in  the  realization 
of  them.  On  this  supposition  the  power  and  the  meaning 
of  music  become  comprehensible  ;  but  otherwise  they  are 
a  mystery. 

We  will  only  add,  that  if  the  probability  of  these  corol-. 
laries  be  admitted,  then  music  must  take  rank  as  the  high- 
est of  the  fine  arts — as  the  one  which,  more  than  any  other, 


238  THE   ORIGIN   AND   FUNCTION   OF  MUSIC. 

ministers  to  human  welfare.  And  thus,  even  leaving  out 
of  view  the  immediate  gratifications  it  is  hourly  giving, 
we  cannot  too  much  applaud  that  progress  of  musical  cul- 
ture  which  is  becoming  one  of  the  characteristics  of  oui 
age. 


VI. 

THE  NEBULAR  HYPOTHESIS. 


INQUIRING  into  the  pedigree  of  an  idea  is  not  a  bad 
means  of  roughly  estimating  its  value.     To  have  come  of 
respectable  ancestry,  is  2:>rimd  facie  evidence  of  worth  in  a 
belief  as  in  a  person  ;  while  to  be  descended  from  a  discred- 
itable stock  is,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  an  unfavora- 
ble index.     The  analogy  is  not  a  mere  fancy.     Beliefs,  to- 
gether w^ith  those  who  hold  them,  are  modified  little  by  ht- 
tle   in   successive   generations ;    and    as  the  modifications 
which  successive  generations  of  the  holders  undergo,  do 
not  destroy  the  original  type,  but  only  disguise  and  refine 
it,  so  the  accompanying  alterations  of  belief,  however  much 
they  purify,  leave  behind  the  essence  of  the  original  belief. 
Considered  genealogically,  the  received  theory  respecting 
the  creation  of  the  Solar  System  is  unmistakeably  of  low 
origin.     You  may  clearly  trace  it  back  to  primitive  mythol- 
ogies.    Its  remotest  ancestor  is  the  doctrine  that  the  celes- 
tial bodies  are  personages  who  originally  lived  on  the  Earth 
— a  doctrine  still  held  by  some  of  the  negroes  Livingstone 
visited.     Science  having  divested   the  sun  and  planets  of 
their  divine  personalities,  this  old  idea  was  succeeded  by 
the  idea  which  even  Kepler  entertained,  that  the  planets 
are  guided  in  their  courses  by  presiding  spirits ;  no  longer 


240  THE   NEBULAR   HYPOTHESIS. 

themselves  gods,  they  are  still  severally  kept  m  their  orbits  by 
gods.  And  when  gravitation  came  to  dispense  with  these  ce- 
lestial steersmen,  there  was  begotten  a  belief,  less  gross  than 
its  parent,  but  partaking  of  the  same  essential  nature,  that 
the  planets  were  originally  launched  into  their  orbits  from 
the  Creator's  hand.  Evidently,  though  much  refined,  the  an- 
thropomorphism of  the  current  hypothesis  is  inherited  from 
the  aboriginal  anthropomorphism,  w^hich  described  gods  as 
a  stronger  order  of  men. 

There  is  an  antagonist  hypothesis  which  does  not  pro- 
pose to  honour  the  Unknown  Power  manifested  in  the  Uni- 
verse, by  such  titles  as  "The  Mastei-Builder,"  or  "The 
Great  Artifi*cer  ;  "  but  which  regards  this  Unknown  Power 
as  probably  working  after  a  method  quite  different  from 
that  of  human  mechanics.  And  the  genealogy  of  this  hy- 
pothesis is  as  high  as  that  of  the. other  is  low\  It  is  begot- 
ten by  that  ever-enlarging  and  ever-strengthening  belief  in 
the  presence  of  Law,  which  accumulated  experiences  have 
gradually  produced  in  the  human  mind.  From  generation 
to  generation  Science  has  been  proving  uniformities  of  re- 
lation among  phenomena  which  were  before  thought  either 
fortuitous  or  supernatural  in  their  origin — has  been  showing 
an  established  order  and  a  constant  causation  where  igno- 
rance had  assumed  irregularity  and  arbitrariness.  Each  fur- 
ther discovery  of  Law  has  increased  the  presumption  that 
Law  is  everywhere  conformed  to.  And  hence,  among 
other  beliefs,  has  arisen  the  belief  that  the  Solar  System 
originated,  not  by  manufacture  but  by  evolution.  Besides 
its  abstract  parentage  in  those  grand  general  conceptions 
which  positive  Science  has  generated,  this  hypothesis  has  a 
concrete  parentage  of  the  highest  character.  Based  as  it 
is  on  the  law  of  universal  gravitation,  it  may  claim  for  its 
remote  progenitor  the  great  thinker  who  established  that 
law.  The  man  who  gave  it  its  general  shape,  by  promulga- 
ting the  doctruie  that  stars  result  from  the  aggregation  of 


n^    HIGH    DERIVATION.  241 

diffused  matter,  was  the  most  diligent,  careful,  and  original 
astronomical  observer  of  modern  times.  And  the  world 
has  not  seen  a  more  learned  mathematician  than  the  man 
who,  setting  out  with  this  conception  of  diffused  matter,  -• 
concentrating  towards  its  centre  of  gravity,  pointed  out^f 
the  way  in  which  there  would  arise,  in  the  course  of; 
its  concentration,  a  balanced  group  of  sun,  planets,  and 
satellites,  like  that  of  which  the  Earth  is  a  member. 

Thus,  even  were  there  but  little  direct  evidence  assign- 
able for  the  Nebular  Hypothesis,  the  probability  of  its 
truth  would  still  be  strong.  Its  own  high  derivation  and 
the  low  derivation  of  the  antagonist  hypothesis,  would  to- 
gether form  a  weighty  reason  for  accepting  it — at  any  rate, 
provisionally.  But  the  direct  evidence  assignable  for  the 
Nebular  Hypothesis  is  by  no  means  little.  It  is  far  greater 
in  quantity,  and  more  varied  in  kind,  than  is  commonly 
supposed.  Much  has  been  said  here  and  there  on  this  or  that 
class  of  evidences ;  but  nowhere,  as  far  as  we  know,  have 
all  the  evidences,  even  of  one  class,  been  fully  stated ;  and 
still  less  has  there  been  an  adequate  statement  of  the  sev- 
eral groups  of  evidences  in  their  ensemble.  We  propose 
here  to  do  something  towards  supplying  the  deficiency: 
believing  that,  joined  with  the  a  priori  reasons  given  above, 
the  array  of  a  posteriori  reasons  will  leave  httle  doubt  in 
the  mind  of  any  candid-inquirer. 

And  first,  let  us  address  ourselves  to  those  recent  dis- 
coveries in  stellar  astronomy,  which  have  been  supposed  to 
conflict  with  this  celebrated  speculation. 

When  Sir  William  Herschel,  directing  his  great  reflec- 
tor to  various  nebulous  spots,  found  them  resolvable  into 
clusters  of  stars,  he  inferred,  and  for  a  time  maintained, 
that  all  nebulous  spots  are  clusters  of  stars  exceedingly  re- 
mote from  us.  But  after  years  of  conscientious  investiga- 
tion, he  concluded  that  "  there  were  nebulosities  which  ^re 
11 


242  THE   NEBULAR    HYPOTHESIS. 

not  of  a  starry  nature  ;  "  and  on  this  conclusion  was  based 
his  hypothesis  of  a  diffused  luminous  fluid,  which  by  its 
eventual  aggregation,  produced  stars.  A  telescopic  pow- 
er much  exceeding  that  used  by  Herschel,  has  enabled 
Lord  Rosse  to  resolve  some  of  the  nebulae  previously  un- 
resolved ;  and,  returning  to  the  conclusion  which  Ilerschel 
first  formed  on  similar  grounds  but  afterwards  rejected, 
■jiany  astronomers  have  assumed  that,  under  sufliciently 
high  powers,  every  nebula  would  be  decomposed  into  stars 
— that  the  resolvability  is  solely  a  question  of  distance.  The 
hypothesis  now  commonly  entertained  is,  that  all  nebula3 
are  galaxies  more  or  less  like  in  nature  to  that  immediately 
surrounding  us ;  but  that  they  are  so  inconceivably  re- 
mote, as  to  look,  through  an  ordinary  telescope,  like  small 
faint  spots.  And  not  a  few  have  drawn  the  corollary,  that 
by  the  discoveries  of  Lord  Rosse  the  ^N'ebular  Hypothesis 
has  been  disproved. 

Now,  even  supposing  that  these  inferences  respecting 
the  distances  and  natures  of  the  nebulae  are  valid,  they  leave 
the  iSTebular  Hypothesis  substantially  as  it  was.  Admit- 
ting that  each  of  those  faint  spots  is  a  sidereal  system,  so 
far  removed  that  its  countless  stars  give  less  light  than 
one  small  star  of  our  own  sidereal  system ;  the  admission 
is  in  no  way  inconsistent  with  the  belief,  that  stars  and  their 
attendant  planets  have  been  formed  by  the  aggregation  of 
nebulous  matter.  Though,  doubtless,  if  the  existence  of 
nebulous  matter  now  in  course  of  concentration  be  dis- 
proved, one  of  the  evidences  of  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  is 
destroyed ;  yet  the  remaining  evidences  remain  just  as  they 
were.  It  is  a  perfectly  tenable  position,  that  though  nebu- 
lar condensation  is  now  nowhere  to  be  seen  in  progress,  yet 
it  was  once  going  on  universally.  And,  indeed,  it  might 
be  argiued  that  the  still-continued  existence  of  diffused 
nebulous  matter  is  scarcely  to  be  expected ;  seeing  that 
the  causes  which  have  resulted  in  the  aggregation  of   one 


THE  CONDENSED  NEBELOUS  MATTER.       243 

mass,  must  have  been  acting  on  all  masses,  and  that  hence 
the  existence  of  masses  not  aggregated  would  be  a  fact 
calling  for  explanation.  Thus,  granting  the  immediate 
conclusions  suggested  by  these  recent  disclosures  of  the 
six-feet  reflector,  the  corollary  which  many  have  drawn  is 
inadmissible. 

But  we  do  not  grant  these  conclusions.  Receiving  them 
though  we  have,  for  years  past,  as  established  truths,  a 
critical  examination  of  the  facts  has  convinced  us  that  they 
are  quite  unwarrantable.  They  involve  so  many  manifest 
incongruities,  that  we  have  been  astonished  to  find  men  of 
science  entertaining  them  even  as  probable  hypotheses. 
Let  us  consider  these  incongruities. 

In  the  first  place,  mark  what  is  inferable  from  the  dis- 
tribution of  nebulae. 

"  The  spaces  which  precede  or  which  follow  simple  nebulos," 
Bays  Arago,  "  and,  d,  fortiori^  groups  of  nebulae,  contain  generally 
few  stars.  Herschel  found  this  rule  to  be  invariable.  Thus, 
every  time  that,  during  a  short  interval,  no  star  approached,  in 
virtue  of  the  diurnal  motion,  to  place  itself  in  the  field  of  his  mo- 
tionless telescope,  he  was  accustomed  to  say  to  the  secretary  who 
assisted  him,  '  Prepare  to  write  ;  nebulce  are  about  to  arrive.'  " 

How  does  this  fact  consist  with  the  hypothesis  that  ne- 
bulae are  remote  galaxies  ?  If  there  were  but  one  nebula, 
it  would  be  a  curious  coincidence  were  this  one  nebula  so 
placed  in  the  distant  regions  of  space,  as  to  agree  in  direc- 
tion with  a  starless  spot  in  our  own  sidereal  system.  If 
there  were  but  two  nebulae,  and  both  were  so  placed,  the 
coincidence  would  be  excessively  strange.  What,  then, 
shall  we  say  on  finding  that  there  are  thousands  of  nebulsB 
so  i^laced  ?  Shall  we  believe  that  in  thousands  of  cases 
these  far-removed  galaxies  happen  to  agree  in  their  visible 
positions  with  the  thin  places  in  our  own  galaxy  ?  Such  a 
belief  is  next  to  impossible.  Still  more  manifest  does  the 
impossibility  of  it  become  when  we  consider  the  general 


244  THE   NEBULAE   HYPOTHESIS. 

distribution  of  nebulse.  Besides  again  showing  itself  in 
the  fact  that  "  the  j)oorest  regions  in  stars  are  near  the  rich- 
est in  nebulae,"  the  law  above  specified  applies  to  the  heav- 
ens as  a  whole.  In  that  zone  of  celestial  space  where  stars 
are  excessively  abundant,  nebulae  are  rare  ;  while  in  the  two 
opposite  celestial  spaces  that  are  furthest  removed  from  this 
zone,  nebulsG  are  abundant.  Scarcely  any  nebulae  lie  near 
the  galactic  circle  (or  j)lane  of  the  Milky  Way) ;  and  the 
great  mass  of  them  lie  round  the  galactic  poles.  Can  this 
also  be  mere  coincidence  ?  When  to  the  fact  that  the  gen- 
eral mass  of  nebulae  are  antithetical  in  position  to  the  gen- 
eral mass  of  stars,  we  add  the  fact  that  local  regions  of  ne- 
bulae are  regions  where  stars  are  scarce,  and  the  further 
fact  that  single  nebulae  are  habitually  found  in  comparative- 
ly starless  spots ;  does  not  the  proof  of  a  physical  connex- 
ion become  overwhelming  ?  Should  it  not  require  an  in- 
finity of  evidence  to  show  that  nebulae  are  not  parts  of  our 
sidereal  system  ?  Let  us  see  whether  any  such  infinity  of 
evidence  is  assignable.  Let  us  see  whether  there  is  even  a 
single  alleged  proof  which  will  bear  examination. 

"As  seen  through  colossal  telescopes,"  says  Humboldt,  "the 
contemplation  of  these  nebulous  masses  leads  us  into  regions  from 
whence  a  ray  of  light,  according  to  an  assumption  not  wholly  im- 
probable, requires  milHons  of  years  to  reach  our  earth — to  dis- 
tances for  whose  measurement  the  dimensions  (the  distance  of 
Sirius,  or  the  calculated  distances  of  the  binary  stars  in  Cygnua 
and  the  Centaur)  of  our  nearest  stratum  of  fixed  stars  scarcely 
Bufiice." 

Now,  in  this  somewhat  confused  sentence  there  is  ex- 
pressed a  more  or  less  decided  belief,  that  the  distances  of 
the  nebulae  from  our  galaxy  of  stars  as  much  transcend  the 
distances  of  our  stars  from  each  other,  as  these  interstellar 
distances  transcend  the  dimensions  of  our  planetary  system. 
Just  as  the  diameter  of  the  Earth's  orbit,  is  an  inapprecia- 


THE   CONDENSED   NEBULOUS  Itf  ATTEE.  245 

ble  point  when  compared  with  the  distance  of  our  Sun  from 
Sirius ;  so  is  the  distance  of  our  Sun  from  Sirius,  an  inap- 
preciable point  when  compared  with  the  distance  of  our 
galaxy  from  those  far  removed  galaxies  constituting  nebulae 
Observe  the  consequences  of  this  assumption. 

If  one  of  these  supposed  galaxies  is  so  remote  that  ita 
distance  dwarfs  our  interstellar  spaces  into  points,  and  there- 
fore makes  the  dimensions  of  our  whole  sidereal  system  re- 
latively insignificant ;  does  it  not  inevitably  follow  that  the 
telescopic  power  required  to  resolve  this  remote  galaxy  into 
stars,  must  be  incomparably  greater  than  the  telescopic 
power  required  to  resolve  the  whole  of  our  own  galaxy 
into  stars  ?  Is  it  not  certain  that  an  instrument  which  can 
just  exhibit  with  clearness  the  most  distant  stars  of  our  own 
cluster,  must  be  utterly  unable  to  separate  one  of  these  re- 
mote clusters  into  stars  ?  What,  then,  are  we  to  think 
when  we  find  that  the  same  instrument  which  decomposes 
hosts  of  nebulae  into  stavs,  fails  to  resolve  completely  our 
own  Milky  "Way  ?  Take  a  homely  comparison.  Suppose 
a  man  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  bees,  extending,  as  they 
sometimes  do,  so  high  in  the  air  as  to  be  individually  almost 
invisible,  were  to  declare  that  a  certain  spot  on  the  horizon 
was  a  swarm  of  bees;  and  that  he  knew  it  because  he  could 
see  the  bees  as  separate  specks.  Astounding  as  the  asser- 
tion would  be,  it  would  not  exceed  in  incredibility  this  which 
we  are  criticising.  Reduce  the  dimensions  to  figures,  and 
the  absurdity  becomes  still  more  palpable.  In  round  num- 
bers, the  distance  of  Sirius  from  the  Earth  is  a  million  times 
the  distance  of  the  Earth  from  the  Sun ;  and,  according  to 
the  hypothesis,  the  distance  of  a  nebula  is  something  like  a 
million  times  the  distance  of  Sirius. 

Now,  our  own  "  starry  island,  or  nebula,"  as  Humboldt 
calls  it,  "  forms  a  lens-shaped,  flattened,  and  everywhere 
detached  stratum,  whose  major  axis  is  estimated  at  seven 
or  eight  hundred,  and  its  minor  axis  at  a  hundred  and  fifty 


246  THa   NEBULAK   HYPOTHESIS. 

times  the  distance  of  Sirius  from  the  Earth."*  And  since 
It  is  conchided  that  our  Solar  System  is  near  the  centre  of 
this  aggregation,  it  follows  that  our  distance  from  the  re- 
motest parts  of  it  is  about  four  hundred  distances  of  Sirius. 
But  the  stars  forming  these  remotest  parts  are  not  individ- 
ually visible,  even  through  telescopes  of  the  highest  power. 
How,  then,  can  such  telescopes  make  individually  visible 
the  stars  of  a  nebula  which  is  a  million  times  the  distance 
of  Sirius  ?  The  implication  is,  that  a  star  rendered  invisi- 
ble by  distance  becomes  visible  if  taken  two  thousand  five 
hundred  times  further  off!  Shall  we  accept  this  implica- 
tion ?  or  shall  we  not  rather  conclude  that  the  nebulae  are 
not  remote  galaxies  ?  Shall  we  not  infer  that,  be  their  na- 
ture what  it  may,  they  must  be  at  least  as  near  to  us  as  the 
extremities  of  our  own  sidereal  system  ? 

Throughout  the  above  argument,  it  is  tacitly  assumed 
that  differences  of  apparent  magnitude  among  the  stars, 
result  mainly  from  differences  of  distance.  On  this  as- 
sumption the  current  doctrines  respecting  the  nebulae  are 
founded ;  and  this  assumption  is,  for  the  nonce,  admitted 
in  each  of  the  foregoing  criticisms.  From  the  time,  how- 
ever, when  it  was  first  made  by  Sir  W.  Herschel,  this  as- 
sumption has  been  purely  gratuitous  ;  and  it  now  proves 
to  be  totally  inadmissible.  But,  awkwardly  enough,  its 
truth  and  its  untruth  are  alike  fatal  to  the  conclusions  of 
those  who  argue  after  the  manner  of  Humboldt.  Note  the 
alternative. 

On  the  one  hand,  what  follows  from  the  untruth  of  the 
assumption  ?  If  apparent  largeness  of  stars  is  not  due  to 
comparative  nearness,  and  their  successively  smaller  sizes 
to  their  greater  and  greater  degrees  of  remoteness,  what 
becomes  of  the  inferences  respecting  the  dimensions  of  our 
sidereal  system  and  the  distances  of  nebulae  ?     If,  as  has 

*  Cosmos.    (Seventh  Edition.)    Yol.  i.  pp.  79,  80. 


MAGNITUDES    AND   DISTANCES    OF   STAE8.  24:7 

lately  been  shown,  the  almost  invisible  star  61  Cygni  has  a 
greater  parallax  than  a  Cygni,  though,  according  to  an  es- 
timate based  on  Sir  W.  Ilerschel's  assumption,  it  should  be 
about  twelve  times  more  distant — if,  as  it  turns  out,  there 
exist  telescopic  stars  which  are  nearer  to  us  than  Sirius ;  oi 
what  worth  is  the  conclusion  that  the  nebulae  are  very  re 
mote,  because  their  component  luminous  masses  are  made 
visible  only  by  high  telescopic  powers  ?  Clearly,  if  the 
most  brilliant  star  in  the  heavens  and  a  star  that  cannot  be 
seen  by  the  naked  eye,  prove  to  be.  equidistant,  relative 
distances  cannot  be  in  the  least  inferred  from  relative  visi- 
bilities. And  if  so,  nebulae  may  be  comp/iratively  near, 
though  the  starlets  of  which  they  are  made  up  appear  ex- 
tremely minute. 

On  the  other  hand,  what.follow^s  if  the  truth  of  tht^  as- 
sumption be  granted  ?  The  arguments  used  to  justify  tnis 
assumption  in  the  case  of  the  stars,  equally  justify  it  in  the 
case  of  the  nebulae.  It  cannot  be  contended  that,  on  the 
average,  the  apparent  sizes  of  the  stars  indicate  their  dis- 
tances, without  its  being  admitted  that,  on  the  average,  the 
apparent  sizes  of  the  nebulae  indicate  their  distances — that, 
generally  speaking,  the  larger  are  the  nearer,  and  the 
smaller  are  the  more  distant.  Mark,  now,  the  necessary 
inference  respecting  their  resolvability.  The  lai-gest  or 
nearest  nebulae  will  be  most  easily  resolved  into  stars  ;  the 
successively  smaller  will  be  successively  more  difficult  of 
resolution  ;  and  the  irresolvable  ones  wnll  be  the  smallest 
ones.  This,  however,  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  the  fact. 
The  largest  nebulae  are  either  wholly  irresolvable,  or  but 
partially  resolvable  under  the  highest  telescopic  powers ; 
while  a  great  proportion  of  quite  small  nebulae,  are  easily 
resolved  by  far  less  powerful  telescopes.  Kn  instrument 
through  which  the  great  nebula  in  Andromeda,  two  and  a 
half  degrees  long  and  one  degree  broad,  appears  merely  &» 
a  diffused  light,  decomposes  a  nebula  of  fifteen  minutes  di- 


248  THE   NEBULAR    IirPOTIIESIS. 

ameter  into  twenty  thousand  starry  points.  At  the  same 
time  that  the  individual  stars  of  a  nebula  eight  minutes  in 
diameter  are  so  clearly  seen  as  to  allow  of  their  number 
being  estimated,  a  nebula  covering  an  area  five  hundred 
times  as  great  shows  no  stars  at  all.  What  possible  expla- 
nation can  be  given  of  this  on  the  current  hypothesis  ? 

Yet  a  further  difficulty  remains — one  which  is,  perhaps, 
still  more  obviously  fatal  than  the  foregoing.  This  diffi- 
culty is  presented  by  the  phenomena  of  the  Magellanic 
clouds.     Describing^  the  laro-er  of  these,  Sir  John  Herschel 


"  The  nubecula  major,  like  the  minor,  consists  partly  of  large 
tracts  and  ill-defined  patches  of  irresolvable  nebula,  and  of  nebu- 
losity in  every  stage  of  resolution,  up  to  perfectly  resolved  stars 
like  the  Milky  "Way ;  as  also  of  regular  and  irregular  nebuli©  prop- 
erly so  called,  of  globular  clusters  in  every  stage  of  resolvability, 
and  of  clustering  groups  sufliciently  insulated  and  condensed  to 
come  under  the  designation  of  '  cluster  of  stars.'  " — "  Oape  Ob- 
servations," p.  146. 

In  his  "  Outlines  of  Astronomy,"  Sir  John  Herschel,  af- 
ter repeating  this  description  in  other  words,  goes  on  to 
remark  that — 

"  This  combination  of  characters,  rightly  considered,  is  in  a 
high  degree  instructive,  afi'ordlng  an  insight  into  the  probable 
comparative  distance  of  staj^s  and  nebulce^  and  the  real  brightness 
of  individual  stars  as  compared  with  one  another.  Taking  the 
apparent  semi-diameter  of  the  nubecula  major  at  three  degrees, 
and  regarding  its  solid  form  as,  roughly  speaking,  spherical,  its 
Dearest  and  most  remote  parts  differ  in  their  distance  from  us  by 
a  little  more  than  a  tenth  part  of  our  distance  from  its  centre. 
The  brightness  of  objects  situated  in  its  nearer  portions,  there- 
fore, cannot  be  much  exaggerated,  nor  that  of  its  remoter  much 
enfeebled,  by  their  difference  of  distance.  Yet  within  this  globu- 
lar space  we  have  collected  upwards  of  six  hundred  stars  of  the 
seventh,  eighth,  ninth,  and  tenth  magnitude,  nearly  three  hundred 


NEBULA   NO   MORE   REMOTE   THAN    STARS.  249 

ne'julse,  and  globular  and  other  clusters  of  all  degrees  of  resoha^ 
bility,  and  smaller  scattered  stars  of  every  Inferior  magnitude, 
from  the  tenth  to  such  as  by  their  magnitude  and  minuteness  con- 
stitute irresolvable  nebulosity,  extending  over  tracts  of  many 
square  degrees.  Were  there  but  one  such  object,  it  might  be 
maintained  without  utter  improbability  that  its  apparent  spheri- 
city is  only  an  effect  of  foreshortening,  and  that  in  reality  a  much 
greater  proportional  difference  of  distance  between  its  nearer  and 
more  remote  parts  exists:  But  such  an  adjustment,  improbable 
enough  in  one  case,  must  be  rejected  as  too  much  so  for  fair  argu- 
ment in  two.  It  must,  therefore,  be  taken  as  a  demonstrated  fact, 
that  stars  of  the  seventh  or  eighth  magnitude,  and  irresolvable 
nebula,  may  co-exist  within  limits  of  distance  not  differing  in  pro- 
portion more  than  as  nine  to  ten." — "  Outlines  of  Astronomy," 
pp.  614,  615. 

Now,  we  think  this  supplies  a  reduetio  ad  absurdum 
of  the  doctrine  we  are  combating.  It  gives  us  the  choice 
of  two  incredibilities.  If  we  are  to  believe  that  one  of 
these  nebulae  is  so  remote  that  its  hundred  thousand  stars 
look  like  a  milky  spot,  invisible  to  the  naked  eye ;  we  must 
also  believe  that  there  are  single  stars  so  enormous  that 
though  removed  to  this  same  distance  they  remain  visible. 
If  we  accept  the  other  alternative,  and  say  that  many  neb- 
ulse  are  no  further  off  than  our  own  stars  of  the  eifrhtb 
magnitude ;  then  it  is  requisite  to  say  that  at  a  distance  not 
greater  than  that  at  which  a  single  star  is  still  faintly  visi- 
ble to  the  naked  eye,  there  may  exist  a  group  of  a  hundred 
thousand  stars  which  is  invisible  to  the  naked  eye.  Neither 
of  these  positions  can  be  entertained.  What,  then,  is  the 
conclusion  that  remains?  This,  only: — that  the  nebulae 
are  not  further  off  from  us  than  parts  of  our  own  sidereal 
system,  of  which  they  must  be  considered  members ;  and 
that  when  they  are  resolvable  into  discrete  masses,  these 
masses  cannot  be  considered  as  stars  in  anything  like  the 
Drdinary  sense  of  that  word. 

And  now,  having  seen  the  untenability  of  this  idea, 
11* 


250  THE   NEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

rashly  espoused  by  sundry  astronomers,  that  the  nebulae 
are  extremely  remote  galaxies ;  let  us  consider  whethej 
the  various  ajDpearances  they  present  are  not  reconcile 
able  with  the  Xebular  Hypothesis. 

Given  a  rare  and  widely-diffused  mass  of  nebulous  mat- 
ter, having  a  diameter,  say  as  great  as  the  distance  from 
the  Sun  to  Sirius,*  what  are  the  successive  changes  that 
will  take  place  in  it  ?  Mutual  gravitation  will  approxi 
mate  its  atoms ;  but  their  aj^proximation  will  be  opposed 
by  atomic  repulsion,  the  overcoming  of  which  implies  the 
evolution  of  heat.  As  fast  as  this  heat  partially  escapes  by 
radiation,  further  approximation  will  take  j^lace,  attended 
by  further  evolution  of  heat,  and  so  on  continuously :  the 
processes  not  occurring  separately  as  here  described,  but 
simultaneously,  uninterruptedly,  and  with  increasing  ac- 
tivity. Eventually,  this  slow  movement  of  the  atoms  to- 
wards their  common  centre  of  gravity,  will  bring  about 
phenomena  of  another  order. 

Arguing  from  the  known  laws  of  atomic  combination, 
it  will  happen  that  when  the  nebulous  mass  has  reached  a 
particular  stage  of  condensation — when  its  internally-situa- 
ted atoms  have  approached  to  within  certain  distances, 
have  generated  a  certain  amount  of  heat,  and  are  subject 
to  a  certain  mutual  pressure  (the  heat  and  pressure  both 
increasing  as  the  aggregation  progresses) ;  some  of  them 
will  suddenly  enter  into  chemical  union.  Whether  the 
binary  atoms  so  produced  be  of  kinds  such  as  we  know, 
which  is  possible ;  or  whether  they  be  of  kinds  simpler 
th94:i  any  we  know,  which  is  more  probable  ;  matters  not 
to  the  argument.  It  suffices  that  molecular  combination 
of  some  species  will  finally  take  place.     When  it  does  take 

*  Any  objection  made  to  the  extreme  tenuity  this  involves,  is  met  by 
the  calculation  of  Xewton,  Avho  proved  that  were  a  spherical  inch  of  air 
removed  four  thousand  miles  from  the  Earth,  it  would  expand  into  a 
sphere  more  than  filling  the  orbit  of  Saturn. 


COJi'DlTIONS    OF   CONDENSATION^-.  251 

place,  it  will  be  accompanied  by  a  great  and  sudden  disen- 
gagement of  heat ;  and  until  this  excess  of  heat  has 
escaped,  the  newly-formed  binary  atoms  will  remain  uni- 
formly diffused,  or,  as  it  were,  dissolved  in  the  pre-existing 
nebulous  medium. 

But  now  mark  what  must  happen.  When  radiation  has 
adequately  lowered  the  temperature,  these  binary  atoms  will 
precipitate ;  and  having  precipitated,  they  will  net  remain 
uniformly  diffused,  but  will  aggregate  into  JloccuU  :  as  water, 
precipitated  from  air,  forms  clouds. 

Concluding,  then,  that  a  nebulous  mass  will,  in  course 
of  time,  resolve  itself  into  flocculi  of  precipitated  denser 
matter,  floating  in  the  rarer  medium  from  which  they  were 
precipitated,  let  us  inquire  what  will  be  the  mechanical 
results.  Masses  dis^^ersed  through  empty  space,  and  moving 
to  their  common  centre  of  gTavity  in  lines  determined  solely 
by  their  mutual  attractions,  will  not  produce  any  axial 
motion  in  the  aggregate  they  form.  But  w^hat  will  happen 
with  irregularly  dispersed  masses  of  irregular  shapes  when 
they  are  suspended  in  a  medium  which  is  denser  near 
its  central  parts  than  near  its  periphery  ?  Their  motions  of 
concentration  will  be  subject  to  deviations  caused  by  local 
mutual  attractions  (which  taking  the  whole  aggregate,  must 
cancel  one  another) ;  but  they  will  also  be  subject  to  devia- 
tions otherwise  produced  which  ^vill  not  necessarily  cancel 
one  another.  Their  initial  movements,  made  in  all  cases 
indirect,  both  by  local  attractions,  and  by  the  unequal  pres- 
sures of  the  resisting  medium  on  their  irregular  faces  as  they 
pass  through  it,  will  always  be  towards  one  or  other  side  of 
the  common  centre  of  gravity  of  the  aggregate.  What  now 
must  result  when  a  flocculus,  having  such  oblique  movement, 
encounters  in  its  progress  a  medium  that  is  always  denser 
on  the  side  towards  the  centre  of  gravity  than  on  the  side 
away  from  it  ?  There  must  perpetually  be  caused  a  deflec- 
tion by  the  difference  of  pressure :  beyond  that  indirect- 


253  THE   NEBULAK   HYPOTHESIS. 

ness  in  the  line  of  movement  produced  by  local  attractions 
there  will  be  a  further  indirectness  produced  by  the  un- 
equal reactions  of  the  medium;  and  there  is  no  reason  for 
supposing  that  this  must  be  equalled  by  opposite  indirect- 
nesses elseAvhere.  All  such  secondary  indirectnesses,  con- 
sidered apart  from  those  produced  by  gravitation,  will  tend 
to  bring  the  concentrating  flocculi  to  one  or  other  side 
of  the  common  centre  of  gravit}- ;  and  parts  of  their 
acquired  velocities,  as  they  approach  the  common  centre 
of  gravity,  will  thus  be  resolved  into  motions  round  the 
common  centre  of  gravity.  If  a  tangential  force  acting  on 
mass  having  some  cohesion,  must  produce  some  rotation ; 
then  some  rotation  must  be  produced  by  a  flocculus  pene- 
trating obliquely  a  medium  increasing  in  density  towards  its 
centre.  Clearl}-,  however,  their  respective  movements  will 
be  deflected,  not  towards  the  side  of  the  common  centre  of 
gravity,  but  towards  various  sides.  How  then  can  there 
result  a  general  movement  of  them  in  the  same  direction  ? 
Very  simply.  Each  flocculus,  in  describing  its  spiral  course, 
must  give  motion  to  the  rarer  medium  through  which  it  is 
moving.  Now,  the  probabilities  are  infinity  to  one  against 
all  the  respective  motions  thus  impressed  on  this  rarer  me- 
dium, balancing  one  another.  And  if  they  do  not  balance 
one  another,  the  inevitable  result  must  be  a  rotation  of 
the  whole  mass  of  the  rarer  medium  in  one  direction.  But 
preponderating  momentum  in  one  direction,  having  caused 
rotation  of  the  medium  in  that  direction,  the  rotating  me- 
dium must  in  its  turn  gradually  arrest  such  flocculi  as  are 
moving  in  opposition,  and  impress  its  ow^n  motion  upon 
them  ;  and  thus  there  will  ultimately  be  formed  a  rotating 
medium  with  suspended  flocculi  partaking  of  its  motion. 

Before  comparing  these  conclusions  with  the  facts,  let 
us  pursue  the  reasoning  a  little  fiu'ther,  and  observe  the 
subordinate  actions,  and  the  endless  modifications  which 
will  result  from  them.  The  respective  flocculi  must  not 
only  be  di-awn  towards  their  common  centre  of  gravity, 


nnnAL  motion  of  nebulous  matter.  253 

but  also  towards  neighbouring  flocculi.  Hence  the  whole 
assemblage  of  flocculi  will  break  up  into  subordinate 
groups  :  each  group  concentrating  towards  its  local  centre 
of  gravity,  and  in  so  doing  acquiring  a  vortical  movement, 
like  that  subsequently  acquired  by  the  whole  nebula. 
Now,  according  to  circumstances,  and  chiefly  according  to 
the  size  of  the  original  nebulous  mass,  this  process  of  local 
aggregation  will  produce  various  results.  If  the  w^hole 
nebula  is  but  small,  the  local  groups  of  flocculi  may  be 
drawn  into  the  common  centre  of  gravity  before  their  con- 
stituent masses  have  coalesced  with  each  other.  In  a 
larger  nebula,  these  local  aggregations  may  have  concen- 
trated into  rotating  spheroids  of  vapour,  while  yet  they 
have  made  but  little  approach  towards  the  general  focus  of 
the  system.  In  a  still  larger  nebula,  where  the  local  aggre- 
gations are  both  greater  and  more  remote  from  the  com- 
mon centre  of  gravity,  they  may  have  condensed  into 
masses  of  molten  matter  before  the  general  distribution  of 
them  has  greatly  altered.  In  short,  as  the  conditions  in 
each  case  determine,  the  discrete  masses  produced  may 
vary  indefinitely  in  number,  in  size,  in  density,  in  motion, 
in  distribution. 

And  now  let  us  return  to  the  visible  characters 
of  the  nebulae,  as  observed  through  modern  telescopesc 
Take  first  the  description  of  those  nebulse  which,  by  the 
hypothesis,  must  be  in  an  early  stage  of  evolution. 

"  Among  the  irregular  nebulm^''  says  Sir  John  Herschel,  "  may 
oe  comprehended  all  which,  to  a  want  of  complete^  and  in  most 
instances^  even  of  partial  resohahility  by  the  power  of  the  20-feet 
reflector,  unite  such  a  deviation  from  the  circular  or  elliptic  form, 
or  such  a  want  of  symmetry  (with  that  form)  as  preclude  their 
being  placed  in  Class  1,  or  that  of  regular  nebulaa.  This  second 
class  comprises  many  of  the  most  remarkable  and  interesting  ob- 
jects in  the  heavens,  as  icell  as  the  most  extensive  in  respect  of  the 
area  they  occupy. '^^ 


254:  THE    NEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

And,  referring  to  this  same  order  of  objects,  M.  Arago 
says : — "  The  forms  of  very  large  diffuse  nebulae  do 
not  appear  to  admit  of  definition ;  they  have  bjo  regular 
outline." 

Xow  this  coexistence  of  largeness,  irresolvability, 
irregularity,  and  indefiniteness  of  outline,  is  extremely 
significant.  The  fact  that  the  largest  nebulae  are  either 
irresolvable  or  very  diflicult  to  resolve,  might  have  been 
inferred  a  priori ;  seeing  that  irresolvability,  implying  that 
the  aggregation  of  precipitated  matter  has  gone  on  to  but 
a  small  extent,  will  be  found  in  nebulae  of  wide  diffusion. 
Again,  the  irregularity  of  these  large,  irresolvable  nebulae, 
might  also  have  been  ex2:)ected ;  seeing  that  their  out- 
lines, compared  by  Arago  to  "  the  fantastic  figures  which 
characterize  clouds  carried  away  and  tossed  about  by 
violent  and  often  contrary  winds,"  are  similarly  charac- 
teristic of  a  mass  not  yet  gathered  together  by  the 
mutual  attraction  of  its  parts.  And  once  more,  the  fact 
that  these  large,  irregular,  irresolvable  nebulae  have 
indefinite  outlines — outlines  that  fade  off  insensibly  into 
surroundino-  darkness — is  one  of  like  meaning^. 

Speaking  generally  (and  of  course  differences  of  dis- 
tance negative  anything  beyond  an  average  statement),  the 
spiral  nebulae  are  smaller  than  the  irregular  nebulae,  and 
more  resolvable ;  at  the  same  time  that  they  are  not  so 
small  as  the  regular  nebulae,  and  not  so  resolvable.  This  is 
as,  according  to  the  hypothesis,  it  should  be.  The  degree  of 
condensation  causing  spiral  movement,  is  a  degree  of  con- 
densation also  implying  masses  of  flocculi  that  are  larger, 
and  therefore  more  visible,  than  those  existing  in  an  earliei 
stage.  Moreover,  the  forms  of  these  spii'al  nebulae  are 
quite  in  harmony  with  the  explanation  given.  The  curves 
of  luminous  matter  which  they  exhibit,  are  7iot  such  aa 
would  be  described  by  more  or  less  discrete  masses  start- 
in  ;•  irora  a  state  of  rest,  and  moving  through  a  resisting 


STETJCTUEE   OF   SPIRAL    NEBULiE.  255 

medium  to  a  common  centre  of  gravity  ;  but  they  are  such 
as  would  be  described  by  masses  having  their  movements 
modified  by  the  rotation  of  the  medium. 

In  the  centre  of  a  spiral  nebula  is  seen  a  mass  both 
more  luminous  and  more  resolvable  than  the  rest.  As- 
Bume  that,  in  process  of  time,  all  the  spiral  streaks  of 
luminous  matter  which  converge  to  this  centre  are  drawn 
into  it,  as  they  must  be ;  assume  further,  that  the  flocculi 
or  other  discrete  bodies  constituting  these  luminous  streaks 
aggregate  into  larger  masses  at  the  same  time  that  they 
approach  the  central  group,  and  that  the  masses  forming 
this  central  group  also  aggregate  into  larger  masses  (both 
which  are  necessary  assumj^tions) ;  and  there  will  finally 
result  a  more  or  less  globular  group  of  such  larger  masses, 
which  will  be  resolvable  with  comparative  ease.  And,  as 
the  coalescence  and  concentration  go  on,  the  constituent 
masses  will  gradually  become  fewer,  larger,  brighter,  and 
more  densely  collected  around  the  common  centre  of  gravi- 
ty. See  now  how  completely  this  inference  agrees  with 
observation.  "  The  circular  form  is  that  which  most  com- 
monly characterizes  resolvable  nebulae,"  writes  Arago. 
^'  Resolvable  nebulae,"  says  Sir  John  Herschel,  "  are  almost 
universally  round  or  oval."  Moreover,  the  centre  of  each 
group  habitually  displays  a  closer  clustering  of  the  consti- 
tuent masses  than  elsewhere ;  and  it  is  shown  that,  under 
the  law  of  gravitation,  which  we  know  extends  to  the  stars, 
this  distribution  is  not  one  of  equihbrium,  but  implies  pro- 
gressing concentration.  While,  just  as  we  inferred  that, 
according  to  circumstances,  the  extent  to  which  aggrega- 
tion has  been  carried  must  vary ;  so  we  find  that,  in  fact, 
there  are  regular  nebulae  of  all  degrees  of  resolvability, 
from  those  consisting  of  innumerable  minute  discrete 
masses,  to  those  in  which  there  are  a  few  large  bodies 
worthy  to  be  called  stars. 

On   the  one   hand,  then,  we  see  that  the   notion,   of 


256  THE  NEBULAR  HYPOTHESIS. 

late  years  uncritically  received,  that  the  nebulae  are  ex- 
tremely remote  galaxies  of  stars  like  those  which  make  up 
our  own  Milky  Way,  is  totally  irreconcileable  with  the 
facts — involves  us  in  sundry  absurdities.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  see  that  the  hypothesis  of  nebular  condensation 
harmonizes  with  the  most  recent  results  of  stellar  astrono- 
my :  nay  more — ^that  it  supplies  us  with  an  explanation 
of  various  appearances  which  in  its  absence  would  be  in- 
comprehensible. 

Descending  now  to  the  Solar  System,  let  us  consider 
first  a  class  of  phenomena  in  some  sort  transitional — those 
offered  by  comets.  In  comets  we  have  now  existing  a 
kind  of  matter  like  that  out  of  which,  according  to  the 
Nebular  Hypothesis,  the  Solar  System  w^as '  evolved.  For 
the  explanation  of  them,  we  must  hence  go  back  to  the  time 
when  the  substances  forming  the  sun  and  planets  were  yet 
unconcentrated. 

When  diffused  matter,  precipitated  ft'om  a  rarer 
medium,  is  aggregating,  there  are  certain  to  be  here  and 
there  produced  small  flocculi,  which,  either  in  consequence 
of  local  currents  or  the  conflicting  attractions  of  adjacent 
masses,  remain  detached ;  as  do,  for  instance,  minute 
shreds  of  cloud  in  a  summer  sky.  In  a  concentrating 
nebula  these  w^ill,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases,  eventually 
coalesce  with  the  larger  flocculi  near  to  them.  But  it  is 
tolerably  evident  that  some  of  the  remotest  of  these  small 
flocculi,  formed  at  the  outermost  parts  of  the  nebula,  will 
not  coalesce  with  the  larger  internal  masses,  but  will  slowly 
follow  without  overtaking  them.  The  relatively  greater 
resistance  of  the  medium  necessitates  this.  As  a  single 
feather  falling  to  the  ground  will  be  rapidly  left  behind  by 
a  pillow-full  of  feathers ;  so,  in  their  progress  to  the  com- 
mon centre  of  gravity,  Tvill  the  outermost  shreds  of  vapour 
be    left  behind  by  the  great  masses  of  vapour  internally 


CONDITIONS   OF   CONCENTRATION.  257 

situated.  But  we  are  not  dependent  merely  on  reasoning 
for  this  belief.  Observation  shows  us  that  the  less  con- 
centrated external  parts  of  nebulae,  are  left  behind  by  the 
more  concentrated,  internal  parts.  Examined  through  high 
powers,  all  nebulae,  even  when  they  have  assumed  regular 
forms,  are  seen  to  be  surrounded  by  luminous  streaks,  of 
which  the  directions  show  that  they  are  being  drawn  into 
the  general  mass.  Still  higher  powers  bring  into  view  still 
smaller,  fainter,  and  more  widely-dispersed  streaks.  And 
it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  minute  fragments  which  no 
telescopic  aid  makes  visible,  are  yet  more  numerous  and 
widely  dispersed.  Thus  far,  then,  inference  and  observa- 
tion are  at  one. 

Granting  that  the  great  majority  of  these  outlying  por- 
tions of  nebulous  matter  will  be  drawn  into  the  central 
mass  long  before  it  reaches  a  definite  form,  the  presump- 
tion is  that  some  of  the  very  small,  far-removed  portions 
will  not  be  so  ;  but  that  before  they  arrive  near  it,  the  cen- 
tral mass  will  have  contracted  into  a  comparatively  moder- 
ate bulk.  What  now  will  be  the  characters  of  these  late- 
arriving  portions  ? 

In  the  first  place,  they  will  have  extremely  eccentric 
orbits.  Lefl  behind  at  a  time  when  they  were  moving  to- 
wards the  centre  of  gravity  in  slightly-deflected  lines,  and 
therefore  having  but  very  small  angular  velocities,  they 
will  approach  the  central  mass  in  greatly  elongated  ellipses; 
and  rushing  round  it  will  go  off"  again  into  space.  That  is, 
they  will  behave  just  as  we  see  comets  do  ;  whose  orbits 
are  usually  so  eccentric  as  to  be  indistinguishable  from 
parabolas. 

In  the  second  place,  they  will  come  fi-om  all  parts  of 
the  heavens.  Our  supposition  implies  that  they  were  left 
oehind  at  a  time  when  the  nebulous  mass  was  of  irregu- 
lar shape,  and  had  not  acquired  a  definite  rotary  motion  ; 
and  as  the  separation  of  them  would  not  be  from  any 


258  THE  NEBULAE  HYPOTHESIS. 

one  surface  of  the  nebulous  mass  more  than  another 
the  conclusion  must  be  that  they  will  come  to  the  cen- 
tral body  from  various  directions  in  space.  This,  too, 
is  exactly  what  happens.  Unlike  planets,  whose  orbits 
approximate  to  one  plane,  comets  have  orbits  that  show  no 
relation  to  each  other  ;  but  cut.  the  2>lane  of  the  ecliptic  at 
all  angles. 

In  the  third  place,  applying  the  reasoning  already 
used,  these  remotest  flocculi  of  nebulous  matter  will,  at 
the  outset,  be  deflected  from  their  straight  courses  to  the 
common  centre  of  gravity,  not  all  on  one  side,  but  each 
on  such  side  as  its  form  determines.  And  being  left  be- 
hind before  the  rotation  of  the  nebula  is  set  ujd,  they 
will  severally  retain  their  different  individual  motions. 
Hence,  following  the  concentrating  mass,  they  will  event- 
ually go  round  it  on  all  sides ;  and  as  often  from  right  to 
left  as  from  left  to  right.  Here  again  the  inference  per- 
fectly corresponds  with  the  facts.  While  all  the  planets 
go  round  the  sun  from  west  to  east,  comets  as  often  go 
round  the  sun  from  east  to  west  as  from  west  to  east.  Out 
of  210  comets  known  in  1855,  104  are  direct,  and  106  are 
retrograde.  This  equality  is  what  the  law  of  probabilities 
w^ould  indicate. 

Then,  in  the  fourth  place,  the  physical  constitution  of 
comets  completely  accords  with  the  hypothesis.  The  abil- 
ity of  nebulous  matter  to  concentrate  into  a  concrete  form, 
depends  on  its  mass.  To  bring  its  ultimate  atoms  into  that 
proximity  requisite  for  chemical  union — requisite,  that  is, 
for  the  production  of  denser  matter — their  repulsion  must 
be  overcome.  The  only  force  antagonistic  to  their  repul- 
sion, is  their  mutual  gravitation.  That  their  mutual  gravi- 
tation may  generate  a  pressure  and  temperature  of  suffi- 
cient intensity,  there  must  be  an  enormous  accumulation  of 
them  ;  and  even  then  the  approximation  can  slowly  go  on 
only  as  fast  as  the  evolved  heat  escapes.     But  where  the 


CONSTITUTION    AND   MOVEMENTS    OF   COMETS.  259 

quantity  of  atoms  is  small,  and  therefore  the  force  of  mu- 
tual gravitation  small,  there  will  be  nothing  to  coerce  the 
atoms  into  union.  Whence  we  infer  that  these  detached 
fragments  of  nebulous  matter  will  continue  in  their  origi- 
nal state.  We  find  that  they  do  so.  Comets  consist  of  an 
extremely  rare  medium,  which,  as  shown  by  the  descrip 
tion  already  quoted  from  Sir  John  Herschel,  has  charac 
ters  like  those  we  concluded  would  belong  to  partially- 
condensed  nebulous  matter. 

Yet  another  very  significant  fact  is  seen  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  comets.  Though  they  come  from  all  parts  of  the 
heavens,  they  by  no  means  come  in  equal  abundance  from 
all  parts  of  the  heavens  ;  but  are  far  more  numerous  about 
the  poles  of  the  ecliptic  than  about  its  plane.  Speaking 
generally,  comets  having  orbit-planes  that  are  highly  in- 
clined to  the  ecliptic,  are  comets  having  orbits  of  which  the 
major  axes  are  highly  inclined  to  the  ecliptic — comets  that 
come  from  high  latitudes.  This  is  not  a  necessary  connex- 
ion ;  for  the  planes  of  the  orbits  might  be  highly  inchned 
to  the  ecliptic  while  the  major  axes  were  inclined  to  it  very 
little.  But  in  the  absence  of  any  habitually-observed  rela- 
tion of  this  kind,  it  may  safely  be  concluded  that,  on  the 
average^  highly-inclined  cometary  orbits  are  cometary  or- 
bits with  highly-inclined  major  axes ;  and  that  thus,  a  pre- 
dominance of  cometary  orbits  cutting  the  plane  of  the 
ecliptic  at  great  angles,  imphes  a  predominance  of  comet- 
ary orbits  having  major  axes  that  cut  the  ecliptic  at  great 
angles.  Now  the  predominance  of  highly  inclined  com- 
etary orbits,  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  table, 
compiled  by  M.  Arago,  to  which  we  have  added  a  column 
giving  the  results  up  to  a  date  two  years  later. 


260 


THE   NEBULAE   HYPOTHESIS. 


Inclinations. 

Number  of 
Comets 
in  1S31. 

Number  of 
Comets 
iu  1S53. 

Number  of 
Comets 
in  1855. 

Deg,      Deg. 

From  0  to  10 

9 

19 

19 

'     10  "  20 

13 

18 

19 

'     20  "  30 

10 

13 

14 

'     30  "  40 

17 

22 

22 

'     40  "  50 

14 

35 

36 

'     50  "  60 

23 

27 

29 

'     60  "  70 

17 

23 

25 

'     70  "  80 

19 

26 

27 

'     80  "  90 

15 

18 

19 

Total  .. 

137 

201 

210 

At  first  sight  this  table  seems  not  to  warrant  our  state- 
ment. Assuming  the  alleged  general  relation  between  the 
inclinations  of  cometary  orbits,  and  the  directions  in  space 
from  which  the  comets  come,  the  table  may  be  thought  to 
show  that  the  frequency  of  comets  increases  as  we  progress 
from  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic  up  to  45°,  and  then  decreases 
up  to  90°.  But  this  apparent  diminution  arises  from  the 
fact  that  the  successive  zones  of  space  rapidly  diminish  in 
their  areas  on  approaching  the  poles.  If  we  allow  for 
this,  we  shall  find  that  the  excess  of  comets  continues  to 
increase  up  to  the  highest  angles  of  inclination.  In  the 
table  below,  which,  for  convenience,  is  arranged  in  inverted 
order,  we  have  taken  as  standards  of  comparison  the  area 
of  the  zone  round  the  pole,  and  the  number  of  comets  it 
contains ;  and  having  ascertained  the  areas  of  the  other 
zones,  and  the  numbers  of  comets  they  should  contain  were 
comets  equally  distributed,  we  have  shown  how  great  be- 
comes the  deficiency  in  descending  from  the  poles  of  the 
ecliptic  to  its  plane. 


DISTRIBUTION   OF   COMETS. 


261 


Between 


Area 
of  Zone. 


Number  of 
Comets,  if 

equally- 
distributed. 


Dez.        Deg. 

&^>  and  80 

1 

80  "  70 

2-98 

70  "  60 

4-85 

60  "  50 

6-6 

50  "  40 

8-13 

40  "  30 

9-42 

30  "  20 

10-42 

20  "  10 

ll'l 

10  "   0 

11-5 

19 
5G- 
92 
125 
154 
179 
108 
210 
218 


Actual 

Number  of 

Comets. 


19 
27 
25 
29 
36 
22 
14 
19 
19 


Deficiency, 


0 

29- 
67 
96 
118 
157 
184 
191 
199 


Eelative 
Abundance. 


11-5 
55 
3-12 
2-66 
2-68 
1-4 
0-8 
1-04 
1 


In  strictness,  the  calculation  should  be  made  with  refer- 
ence, not  to  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic,  but  to  the  plane  of 
the  sun's  equator  ;  and  this  might  or  might  not  render  the 
progression  more  regular.  Probably,  too,  the  progression 
would  be  made  somewhat  different  were  the  calculation 
based,  as  it  should  be,  not  on  the  inclinations  of  orbit- 
planes,  but  on  the  inclinations  of  major  axes.  But  even  £ls 
it  is,  the  result  is  sufficiently  significant :  since,  though  the 
conclusion  that  comets  are  ll'S  times  more  abundant  about 
the  poles  of  the  ecliptic  than  about  its  plane,  can  be  but  a 
rough  approximation  to  the  truth,  yet  no  correction  of  it  is 
likely  very  much  to  change  this  strong  contrast. 

What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  this  fact  ?  It  has  sev- 
eral meanings.  It  negatives  the  supposition,  favoured  by 
Laplace  among  others,  that  comets  are  bodies  that  were 
wandering  in  space,  or  have  come  from  other  systems ;  for 
the  probabilities  are  infinity  to  one  against  the  orbits  of 
such  wandering  bodies  showing  any  definite  relation  to  the 
plane  of  the  Solar  System.  For  the  like  reason,  it  nega- 
tives the  hypothesis  of  Lagrange,  otherwise  objectionable, 
that  comets  have  resulted  from  planetary  catastrophes 
analogous  to  that  which  is  supposed  to  have  produced  the 
asteroids.  It  clearly  shows  that,  instead  of  comets  being 
accidental  members  of  the  Solar  System,  they  are  necessary 


262  THE   NEBULAIS   HYPOTHESIS. 

members  of  it — have  as  distinct  a  structural  relation  to  it 
as  the  planets  themselves.  That  comets  are  abundant 
round  the  axis  of  the  Solar  System,  and  grow  rarer  as  we 
approach  its  plane,  implies  that  the  genesis  of  comets  has 
followed  some  law — a  law  in  some  way  concerned  with  the 
genesis  of  the  Solar  System. 

If  we  ask  for  any  so-called  final  cause  of  this  arrange- 
ment, none  can  be  assigned  :  until  a  probable  use  for  com- 
ets has  been  shown,  no  reason  can  be  given  why  they 
should  be  thus  distributed.  But  when  we  consider  the 
question  as  one  of  physical  science,  we  see  that  comets  are 
antithetical  to  planets,  not  only  in  their  great  rarity,  in 
their  motions  as  indifferently  direct  or  retrograde,  in  their 
eccentric  orbits,  and  in  the  varied  directions  of  those  or- 
bits ;  but  we  see  the  antithesis  further  marked  in  this,  that 
while  planets  have  some  relation  to  the  plane  of  nebular 
rotation,  comets  have  some  relation  to  the  axis  of  nebular 
rotation.*  And  without  attempting  to  explain  the  nature 
of  this  relation,  the  mere  fact  that  such  a  relation  exists, 
indicates  that  comets  have  resulted  from  a  process  of  evo- 
lution— points  to  a  past  time  when  the  matter  now  forming 
the  Solar  System  extended  to  those  distant  regions  of  space 
which  comets  visit. 

See,  then,  how  differently  this  class  of  phenomena  bears 
on  the  antagonistic  hypotheses.  To  the  hypothesis  com- 
monly received,  comets  are  stumbling-blocks  :  why  there 
should  be  hundreds  (or  probably  thousands)  of  extremely 
rare  aeriform  masses  rushing  to  and  fro  round  the  sun,  it 
cannot  say ;  any  more  than  it  can  explain  their  physical 
constitutions,  their  various  and  eccentric  movements,  or 

*  It  is  alike  remarkable  and  suggestive,  that  a  parallel  relation  exists 
between  the  distribution  of  nebulse  and  the  axis  of  our  galaxy.  Just  aa 
comets  are  abundant  around  the  poles  of  our  Solar  System,  and  rare  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  its  plane :  so  are  nebulae  abundant  around  the  poles  of 
our  sidereal  system,  and  rare  in  ihe  neighbourhood  of  its  plane. 


IT  EXPLAINS  COMETARY  PHENOMENA.       263 

their  distribution.  The  hypothesis  of  evohition,  on  the 
other  hand,  not  only  allows  of  the  general  answer,  that 
they  are  minor  results  of  the  genetic  process ;  but  also  fur- 
nishes us  with  something  like  explanations  of  their  several 
peculiarities. 

And  now,  leaving  these  erratic  bodies,  let  us  turn  to 
the  more  familiar  and  important  members  of  the  Solar  Sys- 
tem. It  was  the  remarkable  harmony  subsisting  among 
their  movements,  which  first  made  Laplace  conceive  that 
the  sun,  planets,  and  satellites  had  resulted  from  a  common 
genetic  process.  As  Sir  William  Herschel,  by  his  observa- 
tions on  the  nebulge,  was  led  to  the  conclusion  that  stars  re- 
sulted from  the  aggregation  of  diiFused  matter  ;  so  Laplace, 
by  his  observations  on  the  structure  of  the  Solar  System, 
was  led  to  the  conclusion  that  only  by  the  rotation  of  ag- 
gregating matter  were  its  peculiarities  to  be  explained.  In 
his  "  Exposition  du  Systeme  du  Monde,"  he  enumerates  as 
the  leading  evidences  of  evolution  : — 1.  The  movements  of 
the  planets  in  the  same  direction  and  almost  in  the  same 
plane ;  2.  The  movements  of  the  satellites  in  the  same  di- 
rection as  those  of  the  planets ;  3.  The  movement  of  rota- 
tion of  these  various  bodies  and  of  the  sun  in  the  same  direc- 
tion as  the  orbitual  motions,  and  in  planes  little  different ; 
4.  The  small  eccentricity  of  the  orbits  of  the  planets  and 
satellites,  as  contrasted  with  the  great  eccentricity  of  the 
cometary  orbits.  And  the  probability  that  these  harmoni- 
ous movements  had  a  common  cause,  he  calculates  as  two 
hundred  thousand  billions  to  one. 

Observe  that  this  immense  preponderance  of  probabil- 
ity does  not  point  to  a  common  cause  under  the  form  ordi- 
narily conceived — an  Invisible  Power  working  after  the  me- 
thod of  "  a  Great  Artificer  ;  "  but  to  an  Invisible  Power 
working  afterthe  method  of  evolution.  For  though  the 
supporters  of  the  common  hypothesis  may  argue  that  it 


264  THE   NEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

was  necessary  for  the  sake  of  stability  that  the  planets 
should  go  round  the  sun  in  the  same  direction  and  nearly 
in  one  plane,  they  cannot  thus  account  for  the  direction  of 
the  axial  motions.  The  mechanical  equihbrium  would  not 
have  been  at  all  interfered  with,  had  the  sun  been  without 
any  rotatory  movement ;  or  had  he  revolved  on  his  axis  in 
a  direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  the  planets  go  round 
him  ;  or  in  a  direction  at  right  angles  to  the  plane  of  their 
orbits.  With  equal  safety  the  motion  of  the  Moon  round 
the  Earth  might  have  been  the  reverse  of  the  Earth's  mo- 
tion round  its  axis ;  or  the  motion  of  Jupiter's  satellites 
might  similarly  have  been  at  variance  with  his  axial  motion  • 
or  that  of  Saturn's  satellites  with  his.  As,  however,  none  of 
these  alternatives  have  been  followed,  the  uniformity  must  be 
considered,  in  this  case  as  in  all  others,  evidence  of  sub- 
ordination to  some  general  law — implies  what  we  call  natu- 
ral causation,  as  distinguished  from  arbitrary  arrangement. 

Hence  the  hyj^othesis  of  evolution  would  be  the  only 
probable  one,  even  in  the  absence  of  any  clue  to  the  partic- 
ular mode  of  evolution.  But  when  we  have,  propounded 
by  a  mathematician  whose  authority  is  second  to  none,  a 
definite  theory  of  this  evolution  based  on  established  me- 
chanical laws,  which  accounts  for  these  various  peculiarities, 
as  well  as  for  many  minor  ones,  the  conclusion  that  the  So- 
lar System  teas  evolved  becomes  almost  irresistible. 

The  general  nature  of  Laplace's  theory  scarcely  needs 
stating.  Books  of  popular  astronomy  have  familiarized 
most  readers  with  his  conceptions ; — namely,  that  the  mat- 
ter now  condensed  into  the  Solar  System,  once  formed  a 
vast  rotating  spheroid  of  extreme  rarity  extending  beyond 
tlie  orbit  of  Neptune  ;  that  as  this  spheroid  contracted,  its 
rate  of  rotation  necessarily  increased ;  that  by  augmenting 
centrifugal  force  its  equatorial  zone  was  from  time  to  time 
prevented  from  following  any  further  the  concentrating 
mass,  and  so   remained  behind  as  a  revolving  ring ;    that 


Laplace's  tiieoky  of  planetaky  evolution.      265 

each  of  the  revolving  rings  thus  periodically  detached, 
eventually  became  ruptured  at  its  weakest  point,  and  con- 
tracting on  itself,  gradually  aggregated  into  a  rotating 
mass ;  that  this,  like  the  parent  mass,  increased  in  rapidity 
of  rotation  as  it  decreased  in  size,  and,  where  the  centrifu- 
gal force  was  sufficient,  similarly  threw  off  rings,  which  fi- 
nally collapsed  into  rotating  spheroids;  and  that  thus  out  of 
these  primary  and  secondary  rings  there  arose  planets  and 
their  satellites,  while  from  the  central  mass  there  resulted  the 
sun.  Moreovei^  it  is  tolerably  well  known  that  this  d  pri- 
ori  reasoning  harmonizes  with  the  results  of  experiment. 
Dr.  Plateau  has  shown  that  when  a  mass  of  fluid  is,  as  far 
may  be,  protected  from  the  action  of  external  forces,  it 
will,  if  made  to  rotate  with  adequate  velocity,  form  detach- 
ed rings ;  and  that  these  rings  will  break  up  into  spheroids 
which  turn  on  their  axes  in  the  same  direction  with  the 
central  mass.  Thus,  given  the  original  nebula,  which,  ac- 
quiring a  vortical  motion  in  the  way  we  have  explained, 
has  at  length  concentrated  into  a  vast  sj^heroid  of  aeriform 
matter  moving  round  its  axis — given  this,  and  mechanical 
principles  explain  the  rest.  The  genesis  of  a  solar  system 
displaying  movements  like  those  observed,  maybe  predicted ; 
and  the  reasoning  on  which  the  prediction  is  based  is  coun- 
tenanced by  experiment.* 

• 
*  It  is  true  that,  as  expressed  by  him,  these  propositions  of  Laplace 
are  not  all  beyond  dispute.  An  astronomer  of  the  highest  authority,  who 
has  favoured  me  with  some  criticisms  on  this  essay,  alleges  that  instead  of 
a  nebulous  ring  rupturing  at  one  point,  and  collapsing  into  a  single  mass, 
"  all  probability  would  be  in  favour  of  its  breaking  up  into  many  masses." 
This  alternative  result  certainly  seems  to  be  more  likely.  But  granting 
that  a  nebulous  ring  would  break  up  into  many  masses,  it  may  still  be  con- 
tended that,  since  the  chances  are  infinity  to  one  against  these  being  of 
equal  sizes  and  equidistant,  they  could  not  remain  evenly  distributed  round 
tl\eii  orbit :  this  annular  chain  of  gaseous  masses  would  break  up  into 
groups  of  masses ;  these  groups  would  eventually  aggregate  into  larger 
groups  ;  and  the  final  result  wo'  ild  be  the  formation  of  a  single  mass.  I 
12 


266  THE  NEBULAE  HYPOTHESIS. 

But  now  let  us  inquire  whether,  besides  these  most  con 
spicuous  peculiarities  of  the  Solar  System,  sundry  minor  onea 
are  not  similarly  explicable.  Take  first  the  relation  be- 
tween the  planes  of  the  planetary  orbits  and  the  plane  of 
the  sun's  equator.  If,  when  the  nebulous  spheroid  extend- 
ed beyond  the  orbit  of  Neptune,  all  parts  of  it  had  been 
revolving  exactly  in  the  same  plane  or  rather  in  parallel 
planes — if  all  its  parts  had  had  one  axis;  then  the  planes 
of  the  successive  rings  would  have  been  coincident  with 
each  other  and  with  that  of  the  sun's  rotation.  But  it 
needs  only  to  go  back  to  the  earlier  stages  of  concentration, 
to  see  that  there  could  exist  no  such  com])lete  uniformity 
of  motion.  The  flocculi,  already  described  as  precipitated 
from  an  irregular  and  widely-diffused  nebula,  and  as  start- 
ing from  all  points  to  their  common  centre  of  gravity,  must 
move  not  in  one  plane  but  in  innumerable  planes,  cutting 
each  other  at  all  angles. 

The  gradual  establishment  of  a  vortical  motion  such  as 
we  saw  must  eventually  arise,  and  such  as  we  at  present 
see  indicated  in  the  spiral  nebulae,  is  the  gradual  approach 
toward  motion  in  one  plane — the  plane  of  greatest  momen- 
tum. But  this  plane  can  only  slowly  become  decided. 
Flocculi  not  moving  in  this  plane,  but  entering  into  the 
aggregation  at  various  inclinations,  will  tend  to  perform 
their  revolutions  round  its  centre  in  their  own  planes  ;  and 
only  in  course  of  time  will  their  motions  be  partly  destroy- 
ed by  conflicting  ones,  and  partly  resolved  into  the  general 
motion.  Especially  will  the  outermost  portions  of  the  ro- 
tating mass  retain  for  long  time  their  more  or  less  indepen- 
dent directions ;  seeing  that  neither  by  friction  nor  by  the 
central  forces  will  they  be  so  much  restrained.  Hence  the 
probabilities  are,  that  the  planes  of  the  rings  first  detached 

have  put  the  question  to  an  astronomer  scarcely  second  in  authority  to  th« 
one  above  referred  to,  and  he  agrees  that  this  would  probably  be  the  pro* 


ANOMALY   IN   THE    MOVEMENT   OF    SATELLITES.         267 

will  differ  considerably  from  the  average  plane  of  the  mass  ; 
while  the  planes  of  those  detached  latest  will  differ  from  it 
less.  Here,  again,  inference  to  a  considerable  extent  agrees 
with  observation.  Though  the  j^rogression  is  irregular,  yet 
on  the  average  the  inclinations  decrease  on  approaching  the 
sun. 

Consider  next  the  movements  of  the  planets  on  their 
axes.  Laplace  alleged  as  one  among  other  evidences  of 
a  common  genetic  cause,  that  the  planets  rotate  in  a  direc- 
tion the  same  as  that  in  which  they  go  round  the  sun,  and 
on  axes  approximately  perpendicular  to  their  orbits.  Since 
he  wrote,  an  exception  to  this  general  rule  has  been  discov- 
ered in  the  case  of  Uranus,  and  another  still  more  recently 
in  the  case  of  Neptune — judging,  at  least,  from  the  mo- 
tions of  their  respective  satellites.  This  anomaly  has  been 
thought  to  throw  considerable  doubt  on  his  speculation  ; 
and  at  first  sight  it  does  so.  But  a  little  reflection  will, 
we  believe,  show  that  the  anomaly  is  by  no  means  an  insol- 
uble one  ;  and  that  Laplace  simply  went  too  far  in  putting 
down  as  a  certain  result  of  nebular  genesis,  what  is,  in  some 
instances,  only  a  probable  result.  The  cause  he  pointed 
out  as  determining  the  direction  of  rotation,  is  the  greater 
absolute  velocity  of  the  outer  part  of  the  detached  ring. 
But  there  are  conditions  under  which  this  difference  of  ve- 
locity may  be  relatively  insignificant,  even  if  it  exists :  and 
others  in  which,  though  existing  to  a  considerable  extent,  it 
will  not  suffice  to  determine  the  direction  of  rotation. 

Note,  in  the  first  place,  that  in  virtue  of  their  origin, 
the  different  strata  of  a  concentrating  nebulous  spheroid, 
will  be  very  unlikely  to  move  with  equal  angular  veloci- 
ties :  only  by  friction  continued  for  an  indefinite  time  will 
their  angular  velocities  be  made  uniform  ;  and  especially 
will  the  outermost  strata,  for  reasons  just  now  assigned, 
maintain  for  the  longest  time  their  differences  of  move- 
ment.    Hence,  it  is  possible  that  in  the  rings  first  detached 


268  THE  NEBULAE  HYPOTHESIS. 

tlie  outer  rims  may  not  have  greater  absolute  velocities; 
and  thus  the  resulting  j^lanets  may  have  retrograde  rota- 
tions. Again,  the  sectional  form  of  the  ring  is  a  circum- 
stance of  moment ;  and  this  form  must  have  differed  more 
or  less  in  every  case.  To  make  this  clear,  some  illustra- 
tion will  be  necessary.  Suppose  we  take  an  orange,  and 
assuming  the  marks  of  the  stalk  and  the  calyx  to  represent 
the  poles,  cut  off  round  the  line  of  the  equator  a  strip  of 
peel.  This  strij)  of  peel,  if  placed  on  the  table  with  its 
ends  meeting,  will  make  a  ring  shaped  like  the  hoop  of  a 
barrel — a  ring  whose  thickness  in  the  line  of  its  diameter 
is  very  small,  but  whose  width  in  a  direction  perpendicular 
to  its  diameter  is  considerable.  Suppose,  now,  that  in 
place  of  an  orange,  which  is  a  spheroid  of  very  slight 
oblateness,  we  take  a  spheroid  of  very  great  oblateness, 
shaped  somewhat  like  a  lens  of  small  convexity.  If  from 
the  edge  or  equator  of  this  lens-shaped  spheroid,  a  ring  of 
moderate  size  were  cut  off,  it  would  be  unUke  the  previous 
ring  in  this  respect,  that  its  greatest  thickness  would  be  in 
the  line  of  its  diameter,  and  not  in  a  line  at  right  angles 
to  its  diameter ;  it  would  be  a  ring  shaped  somewhat 
like  a  quoit,  only  far  more  slender.  That  is  to  say,  ac- 
cordmg  to  the  oblateness  of  a  rotating  spheroid,  the  de- 
tached ring  may  be  either  a  hoop-shaped  ring  or  a  quoit- 
shaped  ring. 

One  further  fact  must  be  noted.  In  a  much  flattened 
or  lens-shaped  spheroid,  the  form  of  the  ring  will  vary  with 
its  bulk.  A  very  slender  ring,  taking  off  just  the  equatorial 
surface,  will  be  hoop-shaped  ;  while  a  tolerably  massive 
ring,  trenching  appreciably  on  the  diameter  of  the  spheroid, 
will  be  quoit-shaped.  Thus,  then,  according  to  the  oblate- 
ness of  the  spheroid  and  the  bulkiness  of  the  detached  ring, 
will  the  greatest  thickness  of  that  ring  be  in  the  direction 
of  its  plane,  or  in  a  direction  perpendicular  to  its  plane. 
But  this  circumstance  must  greatly  affect  the  rotation  of 


FORMATION   OF   NEBULOUS   RINGS.  269 

the  resulting  planet.  In  a  decidedly  hoop-shaped  nebulous 
ring,  the  differences  of  velocity  between  the  inner  and  out- 
er surfaces  will  be  very  small ;  and  such  a  ring,  aggrega- 
ting into  a  mass  whose  greatest  diameter  is  at  right  angles 
to  the  plane  of  the  orbit,  will  almost  certainly  give  to  this 
mass  a  predominant  tendency  to  rotate  in  a  direction  at 
right  angles  to  the  plane  of  the  orbit.  Where  the  ring  ig 
but  little  hoop-shaped,  and  the  difference  of  the  inner  and 
outer  velocities  also  greater,  as  it  must  be,  the  opposing 
tendencies — one  to  produce  rotation  in  the  plane  of  the 
orbit,  and  the  other  rotation  perpendicular  to  it — will 
both  be  influential ;  and  an  intermediate  plane  of  rota- 
tion will  be  taken  up.  While,  if  the  nebulous  ring  is  de- 
cidedly quoit-shaped,  and  therefore  aggregates  into  a  mass 
whose  greatest  dimension  lies  in  the  plane  of  the  orbit, 
both  tendencies  will  conspire  to  produce  rotation  in  that 
plane. 

On  referring  to  the  facts,  we  find  them,  as  far  as  can  be 
judged,  in  harmony  with  this  view.  Considering  the  enor- 
mous circumference  of  Uranus's  orbit,  and  his  compara- 
tively small  mass,  we  may  conclude  that  the  ring  from 
which  he  resulted  was  a  comparatively  slender,  and  there- 
fore a  hoop-shaped  one :  especially  if  the  nebulous  mass 
was  at  that  time  less  oblate  than  afterwards,  which  it  must 
have  been.  Hence,  a  plane  of  rotation  nearly  perpendicu- 
lar to  his  orbit,  and  a  direction  of  rotation  having  no  refer- 
ence to  his  orbitual  movement.  Saturn  has  a  mass  seven 
times  as  great,  and  an  orbit  of  less  than  half  the  diameter  ; 
whence  it  follows  that  his  genetic  ring,  having  less  than 
half  the  circumference,  and  less  than  half  the  vertical  thick- 
ness (the  spheroid  being  then  certainly  as  oblate,  and  in- 
deed more  oblate),  must  have  had  considerably  greater 
width — must  have  been  less  hoop-shaped,  and  more  ap- 
proaching to  the  quoit-shaped :  notwithstanding  difference 
of  density,  it  must  have  been  at  least  two  or  three  times  as 


270  THE   NEBULAE   HYPOTHESIS, 

broad  in  the  line  of  its  plane.  Consequently,  Saturn  has  a 
rotatory  movement  in  the  same  direction  as  the  movement 
of  translation,  and  in  a  plane  differing  from  it  by  thirty 
degrees  only. 

In  the  case  of  Jupiter,  again,  whose  mass  is  three  and  a 
half  times  that  of  Saturn,  and  whose  orbit  is  little  mere 
than  half  the  size,  the  genetic  ring  must,  for  the  like  rea- 
sons, have  been  still  broader — decidedly  quoit-shaped,  we 
may  say  ;  and  there  hence  resulted  a  planet  whose  plane  oi^, 
rotation  differs  from  that  of  his  orbit  by  scarcely  more  than 
three  degrees.  Once  more,  considering  the  comparative 
insignificance  of  Mars,  Earth,  Venus,  and  Mercury,  it  fol- 
lows that  the  diminishing  circumferences  of  the  rings  not 
sufficing  to  account  for  the  smallness  of  the  resulting 
masses,  the  rings  must  have  been  slender  ones — must  have 
again  approximated  to  the  hoop-shaped ;  and  thus  it  hap- 
pens that  the  planes  of  rotation  again  diverge  more  or 
less  widely  from  those  of  the  orbits.  Taking  into  account 
the  increasing  oblateness  of  the  original  sjjheroid  in  the 
successive  stages  of  its  concentration,  and  the  different 
proportions  of  the  detached  rings,  it  seems  to  us  that  the 
respective  rotatory  motions  are  not  at  variance  with  the 
hypothesis. 

IsTot  only  the  directions,  but  also  the  velocities  of  rota- 
tion are  thus  explicable.  It  might  naturally  be  supposed 
that  the  large  planets  would  revolve  on  their  axes  more 
slowly  than  the  small  ones  :  our  terrestrial  experiences  in- 
cline us  to  expect  this.  It  is  a  corollary  from  the  Nebular 
Hypothesis,  however,  more  especially  when  interpreted  as 
above,  that  while  large  planets  will  rotate  rapidly,  small 
ones  will  rotate  slowly ;  and  we  find  that  in  fact  they  do 
BO.  Other  things  equal,  a  concentrating  nebulous  mass 
that  is  diffused  through  a  wide  space,  and  whose  outer  parts 
have,  therefore,  to  travel  from  great  distances  to  the  com- 
mon centre  of  gravity,  will  acquire  a  high  axial  velocity  in 


VELOCITIES   OF   PLANETARY   ROTATION.  271 

course  of  its  aggregation  :  and  conversely  with  a  small 
mass.  Still  more  marked  will  be  the  difference  where  the 
form  of  the  genetic  ring  conspires  to  increase  the  rate  of 
rotation.  Other  things  eqnal,  a  genetic  ring  that  is 
broadest  in  the  direction  of  its  plane  will  produce  a  mass 
rotating  faster  than  one  that  is  broadest  at  right  angle 
to  its  plane  •  and  if  the  ring  is  absolutely  as  well  as  rela- 
tively broad,  the  rotation  will  be  very  rapid.  These  con- 
ditions were,  as  we  saw,  fulfilled  in  the  case  of  Jupiter ; 
and  Jupiter  goes  round  his  axis  in  less  than  ten  hours. 
Saturn,  in  whose  case,  as  above  explained,  the  conditions 
were  less  favourable  to  rapid  rotation,  takes  ten  hours  and 
a  half.  While  Mars,  Earth,  Venus,  and  Mercury,  whose 
rings  must  have  been  slender,  take  more  than  double  the 
time  :  the  smallest  taking  the  longest. 

From  the  planets,  let  us  now  pass  to  the  satellites. 
Here,  beyond  the  conspicuous  facts  commonly  adverted  to, 
that  they  go  round  their  primaries  in  the  same  directions 
that  these  turn  on  their  axes,  in  planes  diverging  but 
little  from  their  equators,  and  in  orbits  nearly  circular, 
there  are  several  significant  traits  which  must  not  be  passed 
over. 

One  of  them  is,  that  each  set  of  satellites  repeats  in 
miniature  the  relations  of  the  planets  to  the  sun,  both  in  the 
respects  just  named,  and  in  the  order  of  the  sizes.  On  pro- 
gressing from  the  outside  of  the  Solar  System  to  its  centre, 
we  see  that  there  are  four  large  external  planets,  and  four 
internal  ones  which  are  comparatively  small.  A  like  con- 
trast holds  between  the  outer  and  inner  satellites  in  every 
case.  Among  the  four  satellites  of  Jupiter,  the  parallel  is 
maintained  as  well  as  the  comparative  smallness  of  the  num- 
ber allows :  the  two  outer  ones  are  the  largest,  and  the 
two  inner  ones  the  smallest.  According  to  the  most  recent 
observations  made  by  Mr.  Lassell,  the  like  is  true  of  the 
four  satellites  of  Uianus.     In  the  case  of  Saturn,  who  haa 


272  THE  NEBULAU    HYPOTHESIS. 

eight  secondary  planets  rev^olving  round  him,  the  like* 
ness  is  still  more  close  in  arrangement  as  in  number : 
the  three  outer  satellites  are  large,  the  inner  ones  small ; 
and  the  contrasts  of  size  are  here  much  greater  between 
the  largest,  which  is  nearly  as  big  as  Mars,  and  the 
smallest,  which  is  with  difficulty  discovered  even  by  the 
best  telescopes. 

Moreover,  the  analogy  does  not  end  here.  Just  as  with 
the  planets,  there  is  at  first  a  general  increase  of  size  on 
travelling  inwards  from  iSTeptune  and  Uranus,  which  do 
not  diifer  very  widely,  to  Saturn,  which  is  much  larger, 
and  to  Jupiter,  which  is  the  largest ;  so  of  the  eight  satel- 
lites of  Saturn,  the  largest  is  not  the  outermost,  but  the 
outermost  save  two  ;  so  of  Jupiter's  four  secondaries,  the 
largest  is  the  most  remote  but  one.  ]N"ow  these  analogies 
are  inexplicable  by  the  theory  of  final  causes.  For  pur- 
poses of  lighting,  if  this  be  the  presumed  object  of  these 
attendant  bodies,  it  would  have  been  far  better  had  the 
larger  been  the  nearer :  at  present,  their  remoteness  ren- 
ders them  of  less  service  than  the  smallest.  To  the  Nebu- 
lar Hypothesis,  however,  these  analogies  give  further  sup- 
port. They  show  the  action  of  a  common  physical  cause. 
They  imply  a  law  of  genesis,  holding  in  the  secondary  sys- 
tems as  in  the  primary  system. 

Still  more  instructive  shall  we  find  the  distribution  of 
the  satellites — their  absence  in  some  instances,  and  their 
presence  in  other  instances,  in  smaller  or  greater  numbers. 
The  argument  from  design  fails  to  account  for  this  distri- 
bution. Supposing  it  be  granted  that  planets  nearer  the 
Sun  than  ourselves,  have  no  need  of  moons  (though,  con- 
sidering that  their  nights  are  as  dark,  and,  relatively  to 
their  brilliant  days,  even  darker  than  ours,  the  need  seema 
quite  as  great) — supposing  this  to  be  granted  ;  what  is  to 
be  said  of  Mars,  which,  placed  half  as  far  again  from  the 
Sun  as  we  are,  has  yet  no  moon  ?     Or  again,  how  are  we 


DISTRIBUTION   OF    SATELLITES.  273 

to  explain  the  fact  that  Uranus  has  but  half  as  many  moong 
as  Saturn,  though  he  is  at  double  the  distance  ?  While, 
however,  the  current  j^resumption  is  untenable,  the  Nebu- 
lar Hypothesis  furnishes  us  with  an  explanation.  It  actually 
enables  us  to  predict,  by  a  not  very  complex  calculation, 
where  satellites  will  be  abundant  and  wdiere  they  will  be 
absent.     The  reasoning  is  as  follows. 

In  a  rotating  nebulous  spheroid  that  is  concentrating 
into  a  planet,  there  are  at  work  two  antagonist  mechanical 
tendencies — the  centripetal  and  the  centrifugal.  While 
the  force  of  gravitation  draws  all  the  atoms  of  the  spheroid 
together,  their  tangential  momentum  is  resolvable  into  two 
parts,  of  which  one  resists  gravitation.  The  ratio  which 
this  centrifugal  force  bears  to  gravitation,  varies,  other 
things  equal,  as  the  square  of  the  velocity.  Hence,  the 
aggregation  of  a  rotating  nebulous  spheroid  will  be  more 
or  less  strongly  opposed  by  this  outward  impetus  of  its 
particles,  according  as  its  rate  of  rotation  is  high  or  low : 
the  opposition,  in  equal  spheroids,  being  four  times  as  great 
when  the  rotation  is  twice  as  rapid  ;  nine  times  as  great 
when  it  is  three  times  as  rapid ;  and  so  on.  Now,  the  de- 
tachment of  a  ring  from  a  planet-forming  body  of  nebulous 
matter,  implies  that  at  its  equatorial  zone  the  centrifugal 
force  produced  by  concentration  has  become  so  great  as  to 
balance  gravity.  Whence  it  is  tolerably  obvious  that  the 
detachment  of  rings  will  be  most  frequent  from  those 
masses  in  wdiich  the  centrifugal  tendency  bears  the  greatest 
ratio  to  the  gravitative  tendency.  Though  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  calculate  what  proportions  these  two  tendencies  had 
to  each  other  in  the  genetic  spheroid  which  produced  each 
planet ;  it  is  possible  to  calculate  where  each  was  the  great- 
est and  where  the  least.  While  it  is  true  that  the  ratio 
which  centrifugal  force  now  bears  to  gravity  at  the  equa- 
tor of  each  planet,  differs  widely  from  that  which  it  bore 
iuring  the  earlier  stages  of  concentration ;  and  while  it  is 
12* 


274  THE   NEBULAR    HYPOTHESIS. 

true  that  this  change  in  the  ratio,  depending  on  the  degree 

of  contraction  each  planet  has  undergone,  has  in  no  two 

cases  been  the   same ;    yet    we   may  fairly  conclude  that 

where  the  ratio  is  still  the  greatest,  it  has  been  the  greatest 

from  the  beginning.     The  satellite-forming  tendency  which 

each  planet  had,  will  be  approximately  indicated  by  the 

proportion   now   existing  in  it  between  the   aggregating 

power,  and  the  power  that  has  opposed  aggregation.      On 

making  the  requisite  calculations,  a  remarkable  harmony 

with  this  inference  comes  out.     The  following  table  shows 

what  fraction  the  centrifugal  force  is  of  the  centrij^etal  force 

in   every  case ;  and  the  relation  which  that  fraction  bears 

to  the  number  of  satellites. 

Mercury.     Yenus.      Earth.        Mars.       Jupiter.       Saturn.      Uranus. 
Ill  1  111 

362  282  289  326  14  6-2  9 

1  4  8  4  (or  6  ac- 

Satellite.  Satellites.  Satellites    cording  to 

and  three   Herschel.) 
rings. 

Thus,  taking  as  our  standard  of  comparison  the  Earth 
<vith  its  one  moon,  we  see  that  Mercury  and  Mars,  in  which 
the  centrifugal  force  is  relatively  less,  have  no  moons.  Ju- 
piter, in  which  it  is  far  greater,  has  four  moons.  Uranus, 
in  which  it  is  greater  still,  has  certainly  four,  and  probably 
more  than  four.  Saturn,  in  which  it  is  the  greatest,  being 
nearly  one-sixth  of  gravity,  has,  including  his  rings,  eleven 
attendants.  The  only  instance  in  which  there  is  imperfect 
conformity  with  observation  is  that  of  Venus.  Here  it  ap- 
pears that  the  centrifugal  force  is  relatively  a  very  little 
greater  than  in  the  Earth ;  and  according  to  the  hypothesis, 
Venus  ought,  therefore,  to  have  a  satellite.  Of  this  seem- 
mg  anomaly  there  are  two  explanations.  Xot  a  few  astron- 
omers have  asserted  that  Venus  has  a  satellite.  Cassini, 
Short,  Montaigne  of  Limoges,  Roedkier,  and  Montbarron, 
professed  to  have  seen  it  \  and  Lambert  calculated  its  ele- 


MOTIONS    OF   THE    SATELLITES.  275 

ments.  Granting,  however,  that  they  were  mistaken,  then 
is  still  the  fact  that  the  diameter  of  Venus  is  variously  esti- 
mated ;  and  that  a  very  small  change  in  the  data  would 
make  the  fraction  less  instead  of  greater  than  that  of  the 
Earth.  But  admitting  the  discrepancy,  we  think  that  this 
correspondence,  even  as  it  now  stands,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
est confirmations  of  the  Nebular  Hypothesis.* 

Certain  more  special  peculiarities  of  the  satellites  must 
be  mentioned  as  suggestive.  One  of  them  is  the  relation 
between  the  period  of  revolution  and  that  of  rotation. 
No  discoverable  purpose  is  served  by  making  the  Moon  go 
round  its  axis  in  the  same  time  that  it  goes  round  the 
Earth  :  for  our  convenience,  a  more  rapid  axial  motion 
would  have  been  equally  good ;  and  for  any  possible  inhab- 
itants of  the  Moon,  much  better.  Against  the  alternative 
supposition,  that  the  equality  occurred  by  accident,  the 
probabilities  are,  as  Laplace  says,  infinity  to  one.  But  to 
this  arrangement,  which  is  explicable  neither  as  the  result 
of  design  nor  of  chance,  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  furnishes 
a  clue.  In  his  "  Exposition  du  Systeme  du  Monde,"  La- 
place shows,  by  reasoning  too  detailed  to  be  here  repeated, 
that  under  the  circumstances  such  a  relation  of  movements 
would  be  likely  to  establish  itself. 

Among  Jupiter's  satellites,  w^hich  severally  display  these 
same  synchronous  movements,  there  also  exists  a  still  more 
remarkable  relation.  "If  the  mean  angular  velocity  of  the 
first  satellite  be  added  to  twice  that  of  the  third,  the  sum 

*  Since  this  essay  was  published,  the  data  of  the  above  calculationa 
have  been  changed  by  the  discovery  that  the  Sun's  distance  is  three  mil- 
lions of  miles  less  than  was  supposed.  Hence  results  a  diminution  in  his 
estimated  mass,  and  in  the  masses  of  the  planets  (except  the  Earth  and 
Moon).  No  revised  estimate  of  the  masses  having  yet  been  published,  the 
table  is  re-printed  in  its  original  form.  The  diminution  of  the  masses  to 
the  alleged  extent  of  about  one-tenth,  does  not  essentially  alter  the  rela 
tions  above  pointed  out. 


276  THE    KEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

will  be  equal  to  three  times  that  of  the  second  ; "  and 
*'  from  this  it  results  that  the  situations  of  any  two  of  them 
being  given,  that  of  the  third  can  be  found."  N'ow  here,  as 
before,  no  conceivable  advantage  results.  Neither  in  this 
case  can  the  connexion  have  been  accidental :  the  probabil 
ities  are  infinity  to  one  to  the  contrary.  But  again,  accord 
ing  to  Laplace,  the  Nebular  Hypotjiesis  su2:>plies  a  solution. 
Are  not  these  significant  facts  ? 

Most  significant  fact  of  all,  however,  is  that  presented 
by  the  rings  of  Saturn.  As  Laplace  remarks,  they  are,  as 
it  were,  still  extant  witnesses  of  the  genetic  process  he 
propounded.  Here  we  have,  continuing  permanently, 
forms  of  matter  Hke  those  through  which  each  planet  and 
satellite  once  passed  ;  and  their  movements  are  just  what, 
in  conformity  with  the  hypothesis,  they  should  be.  "  La 
duree  de  la  rotation  d'une  planete  doit  done  etre,  d'apres 
cette  hypothese,  plus  petite  que  la  duree  de  la  revolution 
du  corps  le  plus  voisin  qui  circule  autour  d'elle,"  says  La- 
place.* And  he  then  points  out  that  the  time  of  Saturn's 
rotation  is  to  that  of  his  rings  as  427  to  438 — an  amount 
of  difference  such  as  was  to  be  expected. 

But  besides  the  existence  of  these  rings,  and  their 
movements  in  the  required  manner,  there  is  a  highly  sug- 
gestive circumstance  which  Laplace  has  not  remarked — 
namely,  the  place  of  their  occurrence.  If  the  Solar  Sys 
tern  was  produced  after  the  manner  popularly  supposed, 
then  there  is  no  reason  why  the  rings  of  Saturn  should  not 
have  encircled  him  at  a  comparatively  great  distance.  Or, 
mstead  of  being  given  to  Saturn,  who  in  their  absence 
would  still  have  had  eio^ht  satellites,  such  ringrs  mis^ht  havu 
been  given  to  Mars,  by  way  of  compensation  for  a  moon. 
Or  they  might  have  been  given  to  Uranus,  who,  for  pur- 
poses  of  illumination,  has  far  greater  need  of  them.  Ou 
the  common  hypothesis,  we  rej^eat,  no  reason  can  be  as- 
*  "  Mecanique  Celeste,"  p.  346. 


EXPLANATION   OF    SATURN 's    RINGS.  271 

signed  for  their  existence  in  the  place  where  we  find  them. 
But  on  the  hypothesis  of  evohition,  the  arrangement,  so  far 
from  offering  a  difficulty,  offers  another  confirmation. 
These  rings  are  found  where  alone  they  could  have  been 
produced — close  to  the  body  of  a  planet  whose  centrifu- 
gal force  bears  a  great  proportion  to  his  gravitative  force. 
That  permanent  rings  should  exist  at  any  great  distance 
from  a  planet's  body,  is,  on  the  Nebular  Hypothesis,  mani- 
festly impossible.  Rings  detached  early  in  the  process  of 
concentration,  and  tlierefore  consisting  of  gaseous  matter 
having  extremely  little  power  of  cohesion,  can  have  no 
ability  to  resist  the  disrupting  forces  due  to  imperfect  bal- 
ance ;  and  must,  therefore,  collapse  into  satellites.  A  liquid 
ring  is  the  only  one  admitting  of  permanence.  But  a  liquid 
ring  can  be  produced  only  when  the  aggregation  is  ap- 
proaching its  extreme — only  when  gaseous  matter  is  j^ass- 
ing  into  liquid,  and  the  mass  is  about  to  assume  the  plane- 
tary form.  And  even  then  it  cannot  be  produced  save  un- 
der special  conditions.  Gaining  a  rapidly-increasing  pre- 
ponderance, as  the  gravitative  force  does  during  the  closing 
stages  of  concentration,  the  centrifugal  force  cannot  in  or- 
dinary cases  cause  the  detachment  of  rings  when  the  mass 
has  become  dense.  Only  where  the  centrifugal  force  has 
all  along  been  very  great,  and  remains  powerful  to  the  last, 
as  in  Saturn,  can  Hquid  rings  be  formed.  Thus  the  Nebu- 
lar Hypothesis  shows  us  why  such"  ai^pendages  surround 
Saturn,  but  exist  nowhere  else. 

And  then,  let  us  not  forget  the  fact,  discovered  within 
these  few  years,  that  Saturn  possesses  a  nebulous  ring, 
through  which  his  body  is  seen  as  through  a  thick  veil.  In 
a  position  where  alone  such  a  thing  seems  preservable — 
suspended,  as  it  were,  between  the  denser  rings  and  the 
planet — there  still  continues  one  of  these  annular  masses  of 
diffused  matter  from  which  satellites  and  planets  are  be- 
lieved to  have  originated. 


278  THE   NEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

We  find,  then,  that  besides  those  most  conspicuous  pe- 
culiarities of  the  Solar  System,  which  first  suggested  the 
theory  of  its  evolution,  there  are  many  minor  ones  point' 
ing  in  the  same  direction.  Were  there  no  other  evidence, 
these  mechanical  arrangements  would,  considered  in  their 
totality,  go  far  to  estahlish  the  Nebular  Hypothesis. 

From  the  mechanical  arrangements  of  the  Solar  Sys- 
tem, turn  we  now  to  its  physical  characters  ;  and,  first,  let 
us  consider  the  inferences  deducible  from  relative  specific 
gravities. 

The  fact  that,  speaking  generally,  the  denser  planets  are 
the  nearer  to  the  Sun,  is  by  some  considered  as  adding 
another  to  the  many  indications  of  nebular  origin.  Legiti- 
mately assuming  that  the  outermost  parts  of  a  rotating 
nebulous  spheroid,  in  its  earlier  stages  of  concentration, 
will  be  comparatively  rare ;  and  that  the  increasing  density 
which  the  whole  mass  acquires  as  it  contracts,  must  hold 
of  the  outermost  parts  as  well  as  the  rest ;  it  is  argued 
that  the  rings  successively  detached  will  be  more  and  more 
dense,  and  will  form  planets  of  higher  and  higher  specific 
gravities*  But  passing  over  other  objections,  this  explana- 
tion is  quite  inadequate  to  account  for  the  facts.  Using 
the  Earth  as  a  standard  of  comparison,  the  relative  densi- 
ties run  thus : — 

Neptune.  Uranus.  Saturn.  Jupiter.  Mars.  Earth.  Venus.  Mercury.  Sun. 
.     0-14  0-24       0-14        0-24       0-95      1-00       0*92         1-12       0-25 

Two  seemingly  insurmountable  objections  are  presented 
by  this  series.  The  first  is,  that  the  progression  is  but  a 
broken  one.  Neptune  is  as  dense  as  Saturn,  which,  by  the 
hypothesis,  it  ought  not  to  be.  Uranus  is  as  dense  as  Ju- 
piter, which  it  ought  not  to  be.  Uranus  is  denser  than 
Saturn,  and  the  Earth  is  denser  than  Venus — facts  which 
not  only  give  no  countenance  to,  but  directly  contradict, 
the  alleged  explanation.     The  second  objection,  still  more 


DENSITIES    OF   THE    PLANETS.  279 

serious,  is  the  low  specific  gravity  of  the  Sun.  If  when  the 
matter  of  the  Sun  filled  the  orbit  of  Mercury,  its  state  of 
aggregation  was  such  that  the  detaclied  ring  formed  a  planet 
having  a  specific  gravity  equal  to  that  of  iron ;  then  the  Sun 
itself,  now  that  it  has  concentrated,  should  have  a  specific 
gravity  greater  than  that  of  iron ;  whereas  its  specific 
gravity  is  not  much  above  that  of  water.  Some  other  inter- 
pretation must  therefore  be  sought. 

Differences  in  the  specific  gravities  of  the  members  of  our 
Solar  System  have  several  possible  causes ;  which  may  act 
singly  or  in  co-operation.  1.  The  one  above  supposed — 
differences  among  the  substances  composing  them,  in  respect 
of  their  natures.  2.  Differences  among  the  quantities  of  sub- 
stance :  mutual  gravitation  of  parts  in  large  masses,  produc- 
ing, under  conditions  otherwise  alike,  gTeater  density  than 
in  small  masses.  3.  Differences  among  internal  structures, 
as  dependent  on  the  stage  of  concentration  reached ;  which 
differences  will  be  determined  primarily  by  bulk  (small 
bodies  cooling  faster  than  large  ones),  and,  secondarily, 
by  the  ratio  of  centrifugal  force  to  gravity  (centrifugal  force 
impeding  concentration).  A  glance  at  the  foregoing  list, 
showing  an  immense  contrast  between  the  low  specific 
gravities  of  the  great  planets  and  the  high  specific  gravities 
of  the  small  ones,  raises  the  suspicion  that  the  last  cause  of 
difference  is  the  chief  cause.  In  advancing  from  the  gaseous 
state  to  the  molten  state,  there  have  to  be  passed  through 
all  intermediate  states — states  in  which  the  gaseous  and 
liquid  matters,  mingled  in  some  manner  or  other,  bear  con- 
tinually changing  ratios  to  one  another.  Beginning  with  an 
envelope  of  precipitated  cloud  from  which  drops  of  metallic 
rain  fall  inwards;  going  through  stages  in  which  this 
metallic  rain,  getting  ever  thicker,  fills  the  interior;  coming 
to  a  stage  at  which  a  molten  nucleus  begins  to  be  formed ; 
there  has  to  be  reached  the  other  extreme,  in  which  all  the 
condensible  matter  is  aggregated  into  a  molten  spheroid. 


280  THE  NEBUXAH  HYPOTHESIS. 

Clearly  this  transition  will  be  gone  tlirougli  by  a  planet  like 
the  Earth,  in  a  much  shorter  period  than  by  such  vast 
planets  as  Jupiter  and  Saturn;  in  which,  also,  the  centri- 
fugal force  is  great.  Hence,  it  is  inferable  from  the  Nebular 
Hj^pothesis  that,  other  things  equal,  the  small  celestial  bod- 
ies will  have  reached  late  stages  of  concentration  and  high 
specific  gravities,  at  a  time  when  the  large  celestial  bodies 
are  in  early  stages  of  concentration  and  have  low  specific 
gravities. 

In  considering  the  specific  gra\dties  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  we  have  been  obliged  to  speak  of  tlie  heat  evolved 
by  them.  But  we  have  yet  to  point  out  the  fact  that  in 
their  present  conditions  with  respect  to  temperature,  we 
find  additional  materials  for  building  up  our  argument ;  and 
these  too  of  the  most  substantial  character. 

Heat  must  inevitably  be  generated  by  the  aggregation  of 
diffused  matter  into  a  concrete  form ;  and  throughout  our 
reasonings  we  have  assumed  that  such  generation  of  heat 
has  been  an  accompaniment  of  nebular  condensation.  If, 
then,  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  be  true,  we  ought  to  find  in 
all  the  heavenly  bodies,  either  present  high  temperatures  or 
marks  of  past  high  temperatures. 

As  far  as  observation  can  reach,  the  facts  prove  to  be 
what  theory  requires.  Various  evidences  conspire  to  show 
that,  below  a  certain  depth,  the  Earth  is  still  molten.  And 
that  it  was  once  wholly  molten,  is  implied  by  the  circum- 
stance that  the  rate  at  which  the  temperature  increases  on 
descending  below  its  surface,  is  such  as  would  be  found  in 
a  mass  that  had  been  cooling  for  an  indefinite  jDeriod.  The 
Moon,  too,  shows  us,  by  its  corrugations  and  its  conspicu- 
ous volcanoes,  that  in  it  there  has  been  a  process  of  refrig- 
eration and  contraction,  like  that  which  had  gone  on  in  the 
Earth.  And  in  Venus,  the  existence  of  mountains  simi- 
larly indicates  the  shrinking  of  a  soHdifj'ing  crust,  or  an 
igneous  reaction  of  the  interior  upon  it,  or  both. 


MOLTEN  mTEKIOR  OF  THE  EARTH.        231 

On  the  common  theory  of  creation,  these  phenomena 
are  inexplicable.  To  what  end  the  Earth  should  once  have 
existed  in  a  molten  state,  incapable  of  supporting  life,  it 
cannot  say.  To  satisfy  this  supposition,  the  Earth  should 
have  been  originally  created  in  a  state  fit  for  the  assumed 
purposes  of  creation  ;  and  similarly  with  the  other  planets 
While,  therefore,  to  the  Xebular  Hypothesis  the  evidence 
of  original  incandescence  and  still  continued  internal  heat, 
furnish  strong  confirmation,  they  are,  to  the  antagonist  hy- 
pothesis, insurmountable  difficulties. 

But  the  argument  from  temperature  does  not  end  here. 
There  remains  to  be  noticed  a  more  conspicuous  and  still 
more  significant  fact.  If  the  Solar  System  was  formed  by 
the  concentration  of  diffused  matter,  which  evolved  heat 
while  gravitating  into  its  present  dense  form  ;  then  there 
are  certain  obvious  corollaries  respecting  the  relative  tem- 
peratures of  the  resulting  bodies.  Other  things  equal,  the 
latest-formed  mass  will  be  the  latest  in  cooling — will,  for  an 
almost  infinite  time,  possess  a  greater  heat  than  the  earlier- 
formed  ones.  Other  things  equal,  the  largest  mass  will,  be- 
cause of  its  superior  aggregative  force,  become  hotter  th<va 
the  others,  and  radiate  more  intensely.  Other  things 
equal,  the  largest  mass,  notwithstanding  the  higher  tempe- 
rature it  reaches,  will,  in  consequence  of  its  relatively  small 
surface,  be  the  slowest  in  losing  its  evolved  heat.  And 
hence,  if  there  is  one  mass  which  was  not  only  formed  after 
the  rest,  but  exceeds  them  enormously  in  size,  it  follows 
that  this  one  will  reach  an  intensity  of  incandescence  much 
beyond  that  reached  by  the  rest ;  and  will  continue  in  a 
state  of  intense  incandescence  long  after  the  rest  have 
cooled. 

Such  a  mass  we  l>ave  in  the  Sun.  It  is  a  corollary  from 
the  Nebular  Hypothesis,  that  the  matter  forming  the  Sun 
assumed  its  present  concrete  form,  at  a  period  much  more 
recent  than  that  at  which  the  planets  became  definite  bo" 


282  THE   KEBULAR    HYPOTHESIS. 

dies.  The  quantity  of  matter  contained  in  the  Sun  is  nearly 
five  miUion  times  that  contained  in  the  smallest  planet,  and 
above  a  thousand  times  that  contained  in  the  largest.  And 
while,  from  the  enormous  gravitative  force  of  the  atoms, 
the  evolution  of  heat  has  been  intense,  the  facilities  of  ra- 
diation have  been  relatively  small.  Hence  the  still-contin- 
ued high  temperature.  Just  that  condition  of  the  central 
body  which  is  a  necessary  inference  from  the  Nebular  Hy- 
pothesis, we  find  actually  existing  in  the  Sun. 

It  may  be  well  to  consider  a  little  more  closely,  what  is 
the  probable  condition  of  the  Sun's  surface.  Round  the 
globe  of  incandescent  molten  substances,  thus  conceived  to 
form  the  visible  body  of  the  Sun,  there  is  known  to  exist  a 
voluminous  atmosphere  :  the  inferior  brilliancy  of  the  Sun's 
border,  and  the  appearances  during  a  total  eclipse,  alike 
show  this.*  What  now  must  be  the  constitution  of  this  at- 
mosphere ?  At  a  temperature  approaching  a  thousand 
times  that  of  molten  iron,  which  is  the  calculated  tempera- 
ture of  the  solar  surface,  very  many,  if  not  all,  of  the  sub- 
stances we  know  as  solid,  would  become  gaseous;  and 
though  the  Sun's  enormous  attractive  force  must  be  a  pow- 
erful check  on  this  tendency  to  assume  the  form  of  vapour, 
yet  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  if  the  body  of  the  Sun 
consists  of  molten  substances,  some  of  them  must  be  con- 
stantly undergoing  evaporation.  That  the  dense  gases 
thus  continually  being  generated  will  form  the  entire  mass  of 
the  solar  atmosphere,  is  not  probable.  If  anything  is  to  be 
inferred,  either  from  the  Nebular  Hypothesis,  or  from  the 
analogies  supplied  by  the  planets,  it  must  be  concluded 
ihat  the  outermost  part  of  the  solar  atmosphere  consists  of 
what  are  called  permanent  gases — gases  that  are  not  con- 
densible  into  fluid  even  at  low  temperatures.  If  we  con- 
sider w^hat  must  have  been  the  state  of  things  here,  when 
the  surface  of  the  Earth  was  molten,  we  shall  see  that 

*  See  Herschel's  "  Outlines  of  Astronomy." 


KEVELATIONS    OF    SPECTRUM- ANA  LYSIS.  283 

round  the  still  moltcu  surface  of  the  Sun,  there  probably 
exists  a  stratum  of  dense  aeriform  matter,  made  up  of  sub- 
limed metals  and  metallic  compounds,  and  above  this  a 
stratum  of  comparatively  rare  medium  analogous  to  air. 
What  now  will  happen  with  these  two  strata  ?  Did  they 
both  consist  of  permanent  gases,  they  could  not  remain 
separate  :  according  to  a  well-known  law,  they  would 
eventually  form  a  homogeneous  mixture.  But  this  will  by 
no  means  happen  w^hen  the  lower  stratum  consists  of  mat- 
ters that  are  gaseous  only  at  excessively  high  temperatures. 
Given  off  from  a  molten  surface,  ascending,  expanding,  and 
cooling,  these  will  presently  reach  a  limit  of  elevation 
above  which  they  cannot  exist  as  vapour,  but  must  con- 
dense and  precipitate.  Meanwhile  the  upper  stratum,  ha- 
bitually charged  with  its  quantum  of  these  denser  matters, 
as  our  air  with  its  quantum  of  water,  and  ready  to  deposit 
them  on  any  depression  of  temperature,  must  be  habitually 
unable  to  take  up  any  more  of  the  lower  stratum ;  and 
therefore  this  lower  stratum  will  remain  quite  distinct  from 
it. 

Since  the  foregoing  paragraph  was  originally  j^ublished, 
in  1858,  the  proposition  it  enunciates  as  a  corollary  from 
the  Nebular  Hypothesis,  has  been  in  great  part  verified. 
The  marvellous  disclosures  made  by  spectrum-analysis, 
have  proved  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt,  that  the  solar 
atmosphere  contains,  in  a  gaseous  state,  the  m^etals,  iron, 
calcium,  magnesium,  sodium,  chromium,  and  nickel,  along 
with  small  quantities  of  barium,  copper,  and  zinc.  That 
there  exist  in  the  solar  atmosj^here  other  metals  like  those 
which  we  have  on  the  Earth,  is  probable  ;  and  that  it  con- 
tains elements  which  are  unknown  to  us,  is  very  possible. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  however,  the  proposition  that  the 
Sun's  atmosphere  consists  largely  of  metallic  va^DOurs,  must 
take  rank  as  an  established  truth  ;  and  that  the  incandes- 
cent body  of  the  Sun  consists  of  molten  metals,  follows  al 


284:  THE    NEBULAE    HYPOTHESIS. 

most  of  necessity.  That  an  a  2^riori  ixiference  which  prob' 
ably  seemed  to  many  readers  wildly  speculative,  should  be 
thus  conclusively  justified  by  observations,  made  without 
reference  to  any  theory,  is  a  striking  fact ;  and  it  gives  yet 
further  support  to  the  hypothesis  from  which  this  a  jyriori 
conclusion  was  drawn.  It  may  be  well  to  add  that  Kirch 
hoff,  to  whom  we  owe  this  discovery  respecting  the  consti- 
tution of  the  solar  atmosj^here,  himself  remarks  in  his  me- 
moir of  1861,  that  the  facts  disclosed  are  in  harmony  with 
the  Xebular  Hypothesis. 

And  here  let  us  not  omit  to  note  also,  the  significant 
bearing  which  Kirchhoff's  results  have  on  the  doctrine  con- 
tended for  in  a  foregoing  section.  Leaving  out  the  barium, 
copper,  and  zinc,  of  which  the  quantities  are  inferred  to  be 
small,  the  metals  existing  as  vapours  in  the  Sun's  atmo- 
sphere, and  by  consequence  as  molten  in  his  incandescent 
body,  have  an  average  specific  gravity  of  4* 25.  But  the 
average  specific  gravity  of  the  Sun  is  about  1.  How  is 
this  discrepancy  to  be  explained  ?  To  say  that  the  Sun 
consists  almost  wholly  of  the  three  lighter  metals  named, 
Avould  be  quite  unwarranted  by  the  evidence  :  the  results 
of  spectrum-analysis  would  just  as  much  warrant  the  asser- 
tion that  the  Sun  consists  almost  wholly  of  the  three  heav- 
ier. Three  "metals  (two  of  them  heavy)  having  been  al- 
ready left  out  of  the  estimate  because  their  quantities  ap- 
pear to  be  small,  the  only  legitimate  assumption  on  which 
to  base  an  estimate  of  specific  gravity,  is  that  the  rest  are 
present  in  something  Uke  equal  amounts.  Is  it  then  that 
the  lighter  metals  exist  in  larger  proportions  in  the  molten 
mass,  though  not  in  the  atmosphere  ?  This  is  very  un- 
likely :  the  known  habitudes  of  matter  rather  imply  that 
the  reverse  is  the  case.  Is  it  then  that  under  the  condi- 
tions of  temperature  and  gravitation  existing  in  the  Sun, 
the  state  of  liquid  aggregation  is  wholly  unlike  that  exist- 
ing here  ?     This  is  a  very  strong  assumption  :  it  is  one  for 


PROBABLE    CONSTITUTION    OF   THE    SUN.  285 

which  our  terrestrial  experiences  afford  no  adequate  war 
rant ;  and  if  such  unlikeness  exists,  it  is  very  improbable 
that  it  should  produce  so  immense  a  contrast  in  -specific 
gravity  as  that  of  4  to  1.  The  more  legitimate  conclusion 
is  that  the  Sun's  body  is  not  made  up  of  molten  matter  all 
through ;  but  that  it  consists  of  a  molten  shell  with  a 
gaseous  nucleus.  And  this  we  have  seen  to  be  a  corollary 
from  the  Nebular  Hypothesis. 

Considered  in  their  ensemble^  the  several  groups  of  evi- 
dences assigned  amount  almost  to  proof.  We  have  seen 
that,  when  critically  examined,  the  speculations  of  late 
years  current  resj^ecting  the  nature  of  the  nebula3,  commit 
their  promulgators  to  sundry  absurdities  ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  see  that  the  various  appearances  these  neb- 
uloe  present,  are  explicable  as  different  stages  in  the  precip- 
itation and  aggregation  of  diffused  matter.  We  find  that 
comets,  alike  by  their  physical  constitution,  their  immense- 
ly-elongated and  variously-directed  orbits,  the  distribution 
of  those  orbits,  and  their  manifest  structural  relation  to 
the  Solar  System,  bear  testimony  to  the  past  existence  of 
that  system  in  a  nebulous  form.  Not  only  do  those  obvious 
pecuUarities  in  the  motions  of  the  planets  which  first  sug- 
gested the  Xebular  Hypothesis,  supply  proofs  of  it,  but  on 
closer  examination  we  discover,  in  the  slightly-diverging 
inclinations  of  their  orbits,  in  their  various  rates  of  rotation, 
and  their  differently-directed  axes  of  rotation,  that  tlie 
planets  yield  us  yet  further  testimony ;  while  the  satellites, 
by  sundry  traits,  and  especially  by  their  occurrence  in 
greater  or  less  abundance  where  the  hypothesis  implies 
greater  or  less  abundance,  confirm  this  testimony.  By 
tracing  out  the  process  of  planetary  condensation,  we  are 
led  to  conclusions  respecting  the  internal  structure  of  plan- 
ets which  at  once  explain  their  anomalous  specific  gravities, 
ind  at  the  same  time  reconcile  various  seemingly  contra^ 


286  THE  NEBULAR  HYPOTHESIS. 

dictoiy  facts.  Once  more,  it  turns  out  that  what  is  a  jyriori 
inferable  from  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  respecting  the  tem- 
peratures of  the  resulting  bodies,  is  just  what  observation 
establishes ;  and  that  both  the  absolute  and  the  relative 
temperatures  of  the  Sun  and  planets  are  thus  accounted 
for.  When  we  contemplate  these  various  evidences  in 
their  totality — when  we  observe  that,  by  the  Nebular  Hy- 
pothesis, the  leading  phenomena  of  the  Solar  System,  and 
the  heavens  in  general,  are  explicable ;  and  when,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  consider  that  the  current  cosmogony  is  not 
only  without  a  single  fact  to  stand  on,  but  is  at  variance 
with  all  our  positive  knowledge  of  Nature  ;  we  see  that  the 
proof  becomes  overwhelming. 

It  remains  only  to  point  out  that  while  the  genesis  of 
the  Solar  System,  and  of  countless  other  systems  like  it,  is 
thus  rendered  compi'ehensible,  the  ultimate  mystery  con- 
tinues as  great  as  ever.  The  problem  of  existence  is  not 
solved  :  it  is  simply  removed  further  back.  The  Nebular 
Hypothesis  throws  no  light  on  the  origin  of  diffused  mat- 
ter ;  and  diffused  matter  as  much  needs  accounting  for  as 
concrete  matter.  The  genesis  of  an  atom  is  not  easier  to 
conceive  than  the  genesis  of  a  planet.  Nay,  indeed,  so  far 
from  making  the  Universe  a  less  mystery  than  before,  it 
makes  it  a  greater  mystery.  Creation  by  manufacture  is  a 
much  lower  thing  than  creation  by  evolution.  A  man  can 
put  together  a  machine ;  but  he  cannot  make  a  machine 
develop  itself.  The  ingenious  artizan,  able  as  some  have 
been,  so  far  to  imitate  vitality  as  to  produce  a  mechanical 
pianoforte-player,  may  in  some  sort  conceive  how,  by 
greater  skill,  a  complete  man  might  be  artificially  pro- 
duced ;  but  he  is  unable  to  conceive  how  such  a  complex 
organism  gradually  arises  out  of  a  minute  structureless 
germ.  That  our  harmonious  universe  once  existed  poten- 
tially as  formless  diffused  matter,  and  has  slowly  grown 
into  its  present  organized  state,  is  a  far  more  astonishing 


THE    ULTIMATE   MYSTERY    STILL   "UNSOLVED.  287 

fact  than  would  have  been  its  formation  after  the  artificial 
method  vulgarly  supposed.  Those  who  hold  it  legitimate 
to  argue  from  phenomena  to  nouraena,  may  rightly  contend 
that  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  implies  a  First  Cause  as  much 
transcending  "  the. mechanical  God  of  Paley,"  as  this  does 
the  fetish  of  the  savage. 


VII. 
BAIN  ON  THE  EMOTIONS  AND  THE  WILL, 


AFTER  the  controversy  between  the  Nej^tunists  and 
the  Yulcanists  had  been  long  carried  on  without  defi- 
nite results,  there  came  a  reaction  against  all  speculative 
geology.  Reasoning  without  adequate  data  having  led  to 
nothing,  inquirers  went  into  the  opposite  extreme,  and  con- 
fining themselves  wholly  to  collecting  data,  relinquished 
reasoning.  The  Geological  Society  of  London  was  formed 
with  the  express  object  of  accumulating  evidence  ;  for  many 
years  hypotheses  were  forbidden  at  its  meetings ;  and  only 
of  late  have  attempts  to  organize  the  mass  of  observations 
into  consistent  theory  been  tolerated. 

This  reaction  and  subsequent  re-reaction,  well  illustrate 
the  recent  history  of  English  thought  in  general.  The 
time  was  when  our  countrymen  speculated,  certainly  to  as 
great  an  extent  as  any  other  people,  on  all  those  high  ques- 
tions which  present  themselves  to  the  human  intellect; 
and,  indeed,  a  glance  at  the  systems  of  philosophy  that  are 
or  have  been  current  on  the  Continent,  sufiices  to  show  how 
much  other  nations  owe  to  the  discoveries  of  our  ances- 
tors. For  a  generation  or  two,  however,  these  more  ab- 
stract subjects  have  fiillen  into  neglect ;  and,  among  those 
who  plume  themselves  on  being  "  practical,"  even  into  con- 


PRESENT   TENDENCIES    OF    INQUIRY.  289 

tempt.  Partly,  perhaps,  a  natural  accompaniment  of  our 
rapid  material  growth,  this  intellectual  phase  has  been  in 
great  measure  due  to  the  exhaustion  of  argument,  and  the 
necessity  for  better  data.  Not  so  much  with  a  conscious 
recognition  of  the  end  to  be  subserved,  as  from  an  uncon- 
scious subordination  to  that  rhythm  traceable  in  social 
changes  as  in  other  things,  an  era  of  theorizing  without 
observing,  has  been  followed  by  an  era  of  observing  with- 
out theorizing.  During  the  long-continued  devotion  to 
concrete  science,  an  immense  quantity  of  raw  material  for 
abstract  science  has  been  accumulated  ;  and  now  there  is 
obviously  commencing  a  j^eriod  in  which  this  accumulated 
raw  material  will  be  organized  into  consistent  theory.  On 
all  sides — equally  in  the  inorganic  sciences,  in  the  science 
of  life,  and  in  the  science  of  society — may  we  note  the  ten- 
dency to  pass  from  the  superficial  and  empirical  to  the  more 
profound  and  rational. 

In  Psychology  this  change  is  conspicuous.  The  facts 
brought  to  light  by  anato^nists  and  physiologists  during  the 
last  fifty  .years,  are  at  length  being  used  towards  the  inter- 
pretation of  this  highest  class  of  biological  phenomena ;  and 
already  there  is  promise  of  a  great  advance.  The  work  of 
Mr.  Alexander  Bain,  of  which  the  second  volume  has  been 
recently  issued,  may  be  regarded  as  especially  characteris- 
tic of  the  transition.  It  gives  us  in  orderly  arrangement, 
the  great  mass  of  evidence  supplied  by  modern  science 
towards  the  building-up  of  a  coherent  system  of  mental 
philosophy.  It  is  not  in  itself  a  system  of  mental  philoso- 
phy, properly  so  culled ;  but  a  classified  collection  of  mate- 
rials for  such  a  system,  presented  with  that  method  and  in- 
sight which  scientific  discipline  generates,  and  accompanied 
with  occasional  passages  of  an  analytical  character.  It  is 
indeed  that  which  it  in  the  main  professes  to  be — a  natural 
history  of  the  mind. 

Were  we  to  say  that  the  researches  of  the  naturalist 
13 


290      BATN"  ON  THE  EMOTIONS  AXD  THE  WILL 

who  collects  and  dissects  and  describes  species,  oear  tLe 
same  relation  to  the  researches  of  the  comparative  anato- 
mist tracing  out  the  laws  of  organization,  which  Mr.  Bain's 
labours  bear  to  the  labours  of  the  abstract  psychologist, 
we  should  be  going  somewhat  too  far;  for  Mr.  Bain's  work 
is  not  wholly  descriptive.  Still,  however,  such  an  analogy 
conveys  the  best  general  conception  of  what  he  has  done ; 
and  serves  most  clearly  to  indicate  its  needfulness.  For 
as,  before  there  can  be  made  anything  like  true  generaliza- 
tions respecting  the  classification  of  organisms  and  the  laws 
of  organization,  there  must  be  an  extensive  accumulation 
of  the  facts  presented  in  numerous  organic  bodies ;  so, 
without  a  tolerably-complete  delineation  of  mental  phenom- 
ena of  all  orders,  there  can  scarcely  arise  any  adequate  the- 
ory of  the  mind.  Until  recently,  mental  science  has  been 
pursued  much  as  physical  science  was  pursued  by  the  an- 
cients :  not  by  drawing  conclusions  from  observations  and 
experiments,  but  by  drawing  them  from  arbitrary  a  2Jriori 
assumptions.  This  course,  long  since  abandoned  in  the  one 
case  with  immense  advantage,  is  gradually  being  abandoned 
in  the  other  ;  and  tlie  treatment  of  Psychology  as  a  division 
of  natural  history,  shows  that  the  abandonment  will  soon  be 
complete. 

Estimated  as  a  means  to  higher  results,  Mr.  Bain's  work 
is  of  great  value.  Of  its  kind  it  is  the  most  scientific  in 
conception,  the  most  catholic  in  spirit,  and  the  most  com- 
plete in  execution.  Besides  delineating  the  various  classes 
of  mental  phenomena  as  seen  under  that  stronger  light 
thrown  on  them  by  modern  science,  it  includes  in  the  pic- 
ture much  which  previous  writers  had  omitted — partly 
from  prejudice,  partly  from  ignorance.  We  refer  more 
especially  to  the  participation  of  bodily  organs  in  mental 
changes ;  and  the  addition  to  the  primary  mental  changes, 
of  those  many  secondary  ones  which  the  actions  of  the 
bodily  organs  generate.     Mr.  Bain  has,  w^e  believe,  been 


HIS    WOEK   ESSENTIALLY   TRANSITIONAL.  291 

the  first  to  appreciate  the  importance  of  this  element  in  oui 
states  of  consciousness ;  and  it  is  one  of  his  merits  that  he 
shows  how  constant  and  large  an  element  it  is.  Further, 
the  relations  of  voluntary  and  involuntary  movements  are 
elucidated  in  a  way  that  was  not  possible  to  writers  unac 
quainted  with  the  modern  doctrine  of  reflex  action.  And 
beyond  this,  some  of  the  analytical  passages  that  here  and 
there  occur,  contain  important  ideas. 

Valuable,  however,  as  is  Mr.  Bain's  work,  we  regard 
it  as  essentially  transitional.  It  presents  in  a  digested 
form  the  results  of  a  period  of  observation  ;  adds  to  these 
results  many  well-dehneated  facts  collected  by  himself; 
arranges  new  and  old  materials  with  that  more  scientific 
method  which  the  discipline  of  our  times  has  fostered ; 
and  so  prepare  the  way  for  better  generalizations.  But 
almost  of  necessity  its  classifications  and  conclusions  are 
provisional.  In  the  growth  of  each  science,  not  only  is 
correct  observation  needful  for  the  formation  of  true  the- 
ory; but  true  theory  is  needful  as  a  preliminary  to  cor- 
rect observation.  Of  course  we  do  not  intend  this  as- 
sertion to  be  taken  literally ;  but  as  a  strong  expression  of 
the  fact  that  the  two  must  advance  hand  in  hand.  The 
first  crude  theory  or  rough  classification,  based  on  very 
slight  knowledge  of  the  phenomena,  is  requisite  as  a  means 
of  reducing  the  phenomena  to  some  kind  of  order ;  and  as 
supplpng  a  conception  with  which  fresh  phenomena  may 
be  compared,  and  their  agreement  or  disagreement  noted.. 
Incongruities  being  by  and  by  made  manifest  by  wider  ex- 
amination of  cases,  there  comes  such  modification  of  the 
theory  as  brings  it  into  a  nearer  correspondence  with  the 
evidence.  This  reacts  to  the  further  advance  of  observa- 
tion. More  extensive  and  complete  observation  brings  ad- 
ditional corrections  of  theory.  And  so  on  till  the  truth  is 
reached.  In  mental  science,  the  systematic  collection  of 
facts  having  but  recently  commenced,  it  is  not  to  be  e\ 


292  BAIN    ON   THE    EMOTIONS   AND   THE    WILL. 

pected  that  the  results  can  be  at  once  rightly  formulated 
All  that  may  be  looked  for  are  approximate  generalizations 
which  will  presently  serve  for  the  better  directing  of  in 
quiry.  Hence,  even  were  it  not  now  possible  to  say  in  what 
way  it  does  so,  we  might  be  tolerably  certain  that  Mr. 
Bain's  work  bears  the  stamp  of  the  inchoate  state  of  Psy- 
chology. 

We  think,  however,  that  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  find 
in  what  respects  its  organization  is  provisional ;  and  at  the 
same  time  to  show  what  must  be  the  nature  of  a  more 
complete  organization.  We  propose  here  to  attempt  this  : 
illustrating  our  positions  from  his  recently-issued  second 
volume. 

Is  it  possible  to  make  a  true  classification  without  the 
aid  of  analysis  ?  or  must  there  not  be  an  analytical  basis  to 
every  true  classification  ?  Can  the  real  relations  of  things 
be  determined  by  the  obvious  characteristics  of  the  things? 
DT  does  it  not  commonly  happen  that  certain  hidden 
characteristics,  on  which  the  obvious  ones  depend,  are 
the  truly  significant  ones  ?  This  is  the  preliminary  ques- 
tion which  a  glance  at  Mr.  Bain's  scheme  of  the  emotions 
suggests. 

Though  not  avowedly,  yet  by  implication,  Mr.  Bain 
assumes  that  a  right  conception  of  the  nature,  the  order, 
and  the  relations  of  the  emotions,  may  be  arrived  at  by 
contemplating  their  conspicuous  objective  and  subjective 
characters,  as  displayed  in  the  adult.  After  pointing  out 
that  we  lack  those  means  of  classification  which  serve  in 
the  case  of  the  sensations,  he  says — 

"  In  these  circumstances  we  must  turn  our  attention  to  t7i6 
manner  of  diffusion  of  the  different  passions  and  emotions,  in 
order  to  obtain  a  basis  of  classification  analogous  to  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  sensations.  If  what  we  have  already  advanced  on 
that  subject  be  at  all  well  founded,  this  is  the  genuine  turning 


BODILY   FEELINGS   AND   MENTAL    STATES.  293 

point  of  the  method  to  be  chosen,  for  the  same  mode  of  diffusion 
will  always  be  accompanied  by  the  same  mental  experience,  and 
each  of  the  two  aspects  would  identify,  and  would  be  evidence 
of,  the  other.  There  is,  therefore,  nothing  so  thorouglily  char- 
acteristic of  any  state  of  feeling  as  the  nature  of  the  diffusive 
wave  that  embodies  it,  or  the  various  organs  specially  roused 
into  action  by  it,  together  with  the  manner  of  the  action.  The 
only  drawback  is  our  comparative  ignorance,  and  our  inability 
to  discern  the  precise  character  of  the  diffusive  currents  in  every 
case ;  a  radical  imperfection  in  the  science  of  mind  as  constituted 
at  present. 

"  Our  own  consciousness,  formerly  reckoned  the  only  medium 
of  knowledge  to  the  mental  philosopher,  must  therefore  be  still 
referred  to  as  a  principal  means  of  discriminating  the  varieties  of 
human  feeling.  We  have  the  power  of  noting  agreement  and 
difference  among  our  conscious  states,  and  on  this  we  can  raise  a 
structure  of  classification.  We  recognise  such  generalities  as 
pleasure,  pain,  love,  anger,  through  the  property  of  mental  or 
intellectual  discrimination  that  accompanies  in  our  mind  the  fact 
of  an  emotion.  A  certain  degree  of  precision  is  attainable  by 
this  mode  of  mental  comparison  and  analysis ;  the  farther  we 
can  carry  such  precision  the  better;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  it 
should  stand  alone  to  the  neglect  of  the  corporeal  embodiments 
through  which  one  mind  reveals  itself  to  others.  The  compan- 
ionship of  inward  feeling  with  bodily  manifestation  is  a  fact  of 
the  human  constitution,  and  deserves  to  be  studied  as  such  ;  and 
it  would  be  diflScult  to  find  a  place  more  appropriate  than  a 
treatise  on  the  mind  for  setting  forth  the  conjunctions  and 
sequences  traceable  in  this  department  of  nature.  I  shall  make 
no  scruple  in  conjoining  with  the  description  of  the  mental 
phenomena  the  physical  appearances,  in  so  far  as  I  am  able  to 
ascertain  them. 

"  There  is  still  one  other  quarter  to  be  referred  to  in  settling  a 
complete  arrangement  of  the  emotions,  namely,  the  varieties  of 
human  conduct,  and  the  machinery  created  in  subservience  to  our 
common  susceptibilities.  For  example,  the  vast  superstructure  of 
fine  art  has  its  foundations  in  human  feeling,  and  in  rendering  an 
account  of  this  we  are  led  to  recognise  the  interesting  group  of 
artistic  or  a}sthetic  emotions.      The  same  outward  reference  to 


29i  BAIX    ox  THE   EMOTIOXS   A]STD   THE   WILL. 

conduct  and  creations  brings  to  light  the  so-called  moral  sense  in 
man,  whose  foundations  in  the  mental  system  have  accordiDgly  to 
be  examined. 

"  Combining  together  these  various  indications,  or  sources 
of  discrimination, — outward  objects,  diffusive  mode  or  expression, 
inward  consciousness,  resulting  conduct  and  institutions — I  adopt 
the  following  arrangement  of  the  families  or  natural  orders  of 
emotion." 

Here,  then,  are  confessedly  adopted,  as  bases  of  classi- 
fication, the  most  manifest  characters  of  the  emotions  ;  as 
discerned  subjectively,  and  objectively.  The  mode  of  dif- 
fusion of  an  emotion  is  one  of  its  outside  aspects  ;  the  insti- 
tutions it  generates  form  another  of  its  outside  aspects ; 
and  though  the  peculiarities  of  the  emotion  as  a  state  of 
consciousness,  seem  to  express  its  intrinsic  and  ultimate 
nature,  yet  such  peculiarities  as  are  perceptible  by  simple 
introspection,  must  also  be  classed  as  superficial  peculiari- 
ties. It  is  a  familiar  fact  that  various  intellectual  states  of 
consciousness  turn  out,  when  analyzed,  to  have  natures 
widely  unlike  those  which  at  first  appear  ;  and  we  believe 
the  like  will  prove  true  of  emotional  states  of  conscious- 
ness. Just  as  our  concept  of  space,  which  is  apt  to  be 
thought  a  simple,  undecomposable  concept,  is  yet  resolva- 
ble into  experiences  quite  diflferent  from  that  state  of  con- 
sciousness which  we  call  space ;  so,  probably,  the  sentiment 
of  afiection  or  reverence  is  compounded  of  elements  that 
are  severally  distinct  from  the  whole  which  they  make  up. 
And  much  as  a  classification  of  our  ideas  which  dealt  with 
the  idea  of  space  as  though  it  were  ultimate,  would  be  a 
classification  of  ideas  by  their  externals  ;  so,  a  classification 
of  our  emotions,  which,  regarding  them  as  simj^le,  describes 
their  aspects  in  ordinary  consciousness,  is  a  classification  of 
emotions  by  their  externals. 

Thus,  then,  Mr.  Bain's  grou^Ding  is  throughout  deter- 
mined by  the  most  manifest  attributes — those  objectively 


iMt'ERFECT   BASIS   OF   HIS   CLASSIFICATION.  295 

displayed  in  the  natural  language  of  the  emotions,  and 
in  the  social  phenomena  that  result  from  them,  and  those 
subjectively  displayed  in  the  aspects  the  emotions  assume 
in  an  analytical  consciousness.  And  the  question  is — Can 
they  be  correctly  grouped  after  this  method  ? 

We  think  not;  and  had  Mr.  Bain  carried  farther  an  idea 
with  which  he  has  set  out,  he  would  probably  have  seen 
that  they  cannot.  As  already  said,  he  avowedly  adopts 
*'  the  natural-history-method  :  "  not  only  referring  to  it  in 
his  preface,  but  in  his  first  chapter  giving  examples  of 
botanical  and  zoological  classifications,  as  illustrating  the 
mode  in  which  he  proposes  to  deal  with  the  emotions. 
This  we  conceive  to  be  a  philosophical  conception  ;  and  we 
have  only  to  regret  that  Mr.  Bain  has  overlooked  some  of 
its  most  important  imj^lications.  For  in  what  has  essentially 
consisted  the  progress  of  natural-history-classification  ?  In 
the  abandonment  of  grouping  by  external,  conspicuous 
characters ;  and  in  the  making  of  certain  internal,  but  all- 
essential  characters,  the  bases  of  groups.  Whales  are  not 
now  ranged  along  with  fish,  because  in  their  general  forms 
and  habits  of  life  they  resemble  fish  ;  but  they  are  ranged 
with  mammals,  because  the  type  of  their  organization,  as 
ascertained  by  dissection,  corresponds  with  that  of  the  mam- 
mals. IsTo  longer  considered  as  sea-weeds  in  virtue  of  their 
forms  and  modes  of  growth,  zoophytes  are  now  shown,  by 
examination  of  their  economy,  to  belong  to  the  animal 
kingdom. 

It  is  found,  then,  that  the  discovery  of  real  relation- 
Bhips  involves  analysis.  It  has  turned  out  that  the  earlier 
classifications,  guided  by  general  resemblances,  though 
containing  much  truth,  and  though  very  useful  provision- 
ally, were  yet  in  many  cases  radically  wrong ;  and  that  the 
true  affinities  of  organisms,  and  the  true  homologies  of 
their  parts,  are  to  be  made  out  on'y  by  examining  their 
*jidden  structures.     Another  fact  of  great  significance  io 


296  BAIN    ON   THE    EMOTIONS   AND   THE   WILL. 

the  history  of  classification  is  also  to  be  noted.  Very  fre* 
quently  the  kinship  of  an  organism  cannot  be  made  out 
even  by  exhaustive  analysis,  if  that  analysis  is  confined  to 
the  adult  structure.  In  many  cases  it  is  needful  to  ex- 
amine the  structure  m  its  earlier  stages ;  and  even  in  its 
embryonic  stage.  So  difiicult  was  it,  for  instance,  to  de- 
termine the  true  position  of  the  Cirrhipedia  among  animals, 
bj  examining  mature  individuals  only,  that  Cuvier  errone- 
ously classed  them  with  Mollusca,  even  after  dissecting 
them ;  and  not  until  their  early  forms  were  discovered, 
were  they  clearly  proved  to  belong  to  the  Crustacea.  So 
important,  indeed,  is  the  study  of  development  as  a  means 
to  classification,  that  the  first  zoologists  now  hold  it  to  be 
the  only  absolute  criterion. 

Here,  then,  in  the  advance  of  natural-history-classifica- 
tion, are  two  fundamental  facts,  which  should  be  borne  in 
mind  when  classifying  the  emotions.  If,  as  Mr.  Bain  right- 
ly assumes,  the  emotions  are  to  be  grouped  after  the  natu- 
ral-history-method ;  then  it  should  be  the  natural  history- 
method  in  its  complete  form,  and  not  in  its  rude  form. 
Mr.  Bain  will  doubtless  agree  in  the  position,  that  a  cor- 
rect account  of  the  emotions  in  their  natures  and  relations, 
must  correspond  with  a  correct  account  of  the  nervous 
system — must  form  another  side  of  the  same  ultimate  facts. 
Structure  and  function  must  necessarily  harmonize.  Struc- 
tures which  have  with  each  other  certain  ultimate  connex- 
ions, must  have  functions  that  have  answering  connexions. 
Structures  that  have  arisen  in  certain  ways,  must  have  func- 
tions that  have  arisen  in  parallel  ways.  '  And  hence  if  anal- 
ysis and  development  are  needful  for  the  right  interpreta- 
tion of  structures,  they  must  be  needful  for  the  right  inter- 
pretation of  functions.  Just  as  a  scientific  description  of 
the  digestive  organs,  must  include  not  only  their  obvious 
forms  and  connexions,  but  their  microscopic  characters, 
ani  also  the  wiys  in  which  they  severally  result  by  differ 


HOW  THE  EMOTIONS  ARE  TO  BE  ANALYZED.    297 

entiatioii  from  the  primitive  mucous  membrane ;  so  must 
a  scientific  account  of  the  nervous  system,  include  its  gen- 
eral arrangements,  its  minute  structure,  and  its  mode  of 
evolution ;  and  so  must  a  scientific  account  of  nervous  ac- 
tions, include  the  answering  three  elements.  Alike  in  class- 
ing separate  organisms,  and  in  classing  the  parts  of  the  same 
organism,  the  complete  natural-history-method  involves 
ultimate  analysis,  aided  by  development ;  and  Mr.  Bain,  in 
not  basing  his  classification  of  the  emotions  on  characters 
reached  through  these  aids,  has  fallen  short  of  the  concep- 
tion with  which  he  set  out. 

"  But,"  it  will  perhaps  be  asked,  *'  how  are  the  emotions 
to  be  analyzed,  and  their  modes  of  evolution  to  be  ascer- 
tained ?  Different  animals,  and  different  organs  of  the 
same  animal,  may  readily  be  compared  in  their  internal  and 
microscopic  structures,  as  also  in  their  developments ;  but 
functions,  and  especially  such  functions  as  the  emotions,  do 
not  admit  of  like  comparisons." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  application  of  these  meth- 
ods is  here  by  no  means  so  easy.  Though  we  can  note  dif- 
ferences and  similarities  between  the  internal  formations  of 
two  animals  ;  it  is  difficult  to  contrast  the  mental  states  of 
two  animals.  Though  the  true  morphological  relations  of 
organs  may  be  made  out  by  the  observations  of  embryos ; 
yet,  where  such  organs  are  inactive  before  birth,  we  cannot 
completely  trace  the  history  of  their  actions.  Obviously, 
too,  the  pursuance  of  inquiries  of  the  kind  indicated,  raises 
questions  which  science  is  not  yet  prepared  to  answer  ;  as, 
for  instance — Whether  all  nervous  functions,  in  common 
with  all  other  functions,  arise  by  gradual  differentiations, 
as  their  organs  do  ?  Whether  the  emotions  are,  therefore, 
to  be  regarded  as  divergent  modes  of  action,  that  have  be- 
come unlike  by  successive  modifications  ?  Whether,  as 
two  organs  which  originally  budded  out  of  the  same  mem« 
brane,  have  not  only  become  different  as  they  developed, 


298  BAIN    ON   THE   EMOTIONS   AND   THE   WILL. 

but  have  also  severally  become  compound  internally,  though 
externally  simple  :  so  two  emotions,  simple  and  near  akin 
in  their  roots,  may  not  only  have  grown  unlike,  but  may 
also  have  grown  involved  in  their  natures,  though  seeming 
homogeneous  to  consciousness.  And  here,  indeed,  in  the 
inability  of  existing  science  to  answer  these  questions  which 
underlie  a  true  psychological  classification,  we  see  how 
purely  provisional  any  present  classification  is  likely  to  be. 
Nevertheless,  even  now,  classification  may  be  aided  by 
development  and  ultimate  analysis  to  a  considerable  extent ; 
and  the  defect  in  Mr.  Bain's  work  is,  that  he  has  not  syste- 
matically availed  himself  of  them  as  far  as  possible.  Thus 
we  may,  in  the  first  place,  study  the  evolution  of  the  emo- 
tions up  through  the  various  grades  of  the  animal  kingdom  : 
observing  which  of  them  are  earliest  and  exist  with  the 
.lowest  organization  and  intelligence  ;  in  what  order  the 
others  accompany  higher  endowments  ;  and  how  they  are 
severally  related  to  the  conditions  of  life.  In  the  second 
place,  we  may  note  the  emotional  differences  between 
the  lower  and  the  higher  human  races — may  regard  as 
earlier  and  simpler  those  feelings  which  are  common  to 
both,  and  as  later  and  more  compound  those  which  are 
characteristic  of  the  most  civilized.  In  the  third  place,  we 
may  observe  the  order  in  which  the  emotions  unfold  during 
the  progress  from  infancy  to  maturity.  And  lastly,  compar- 
ing these  three  kinds  of  emotional  development,  displayed 
in  the  ascending  grades  of  the  animal  kingdom,  in  the  ad- 
vance of  the  civilized  races,  and  in  individual  history,  we 
may  see  in  what  respects  they  harmonize,  and  what  are  the 
implied  general  truths. 

Having  gathered  together  and  generalized  these  sever- 
al, classes  of  facts,  analysis  of  the  emotions  would  be  made 
easier.  Setting  out  with  the  unquestionable  assumption, 
that  every  new  form  of  emotion  making  its  appearance  in 
the  individual  or  the  race,  is  a  modification  of  some  pre-ex- 


EVOLUTION    OF    THE    EMOTIONS.  299 

isting  emotion,  or  a  compounding  of  several  pre-existing 
emotions;  we  should  be  greatly  aided  by  knowing  what 
always  are  the  pre-existing  emotions.  When,  for  example, 
we  find  tliat  very  few  if  any  of  the  lower  animals  show  any 
love  of  accumulation,  and  that  this  feeling  is  absent  in  in- 
fancy— when  we  see  that  an  infant  in  arms  exhibits  anger, 
fear,  wonder,  while  yet  it  manifests  no  desire  of  permanent 
possession,  and  that  a  brute  which  has  no  acquisitive  emotion 
can  nevertheless  feel  attachment,  jealousy,  love  of  approba- 
tion ;  we  may  suspect  that  the  feeling  which  property  satis- 
fies, is  compounded  out  of  simpler  and  deeper  feelings. 
We  may  conclude  that  as,  when  a  dog  hides  a  bone,  there 
must  exist  in  him  a  prospective  gratification  of  hunger  ;  so 
there  must  similarly  at  first,  in  ail  cases  whei-e  anything  is 
secured  or  taken  possession  of,  exist  an  ideal  excitement  of 
the  feeling  wliich  that  thing  will  gratify.  We  may  further 
conclude  that  when  the  intelligence  is  such  that  a  variety 
of  objects  come  to  be  utihzed  for  different  purposes — when, 
as  among  savages,  divers  wants  are  satisfied  through  the  ar- 
ticles appropriated  for  weapons,  shelter,  clothing,  ornament ; 
the  act  of  appropriating  comes  to  be  one  constantly  involv- 
ing agreeable  associations,  and  one  which  is  therefore  pleas- 
urable, irrespective  of  the  end  subserved.  And  when,  as 
in  civilized  lifii,  the  property  acquired  is  of  a  kind  not  con- 
ducing to  one  order  of  gratifications,  but  is  capable  of  ad 
ministering  to  all  gratifications,  the  pleasure  of  acquiring 
property  grows  more  distinct  from  each  of  the  various 
pleasures  subserved — is  more  completely  diflferentiated  into 
a  separate  emotion. 

This  illustration,  roughly  as  it  is  sketched,  will  show 
what  we  mean  by  the  use  of  comparative  psychology  in 
aid  of  classification.  Ascertaining  by  induction  the  actual 
order  of  evolution  of  the  emotions,  we  are  led  to  susj^ect 
this  to  be  their  order  of  successive  dependence ;  and  are  so 
led  to  recognize  their  order  of  ascending  complexity;  and 
by  consequence  their  true  groupings. 


300  BAIN   ON   THE  EMOTIONS   AND    THE   WILL. 

Thus,  in  the  very  jDrocess  of  arranging  the  emotions 
into  grades,  beginning  with  those  involved  in  the  lowest 
forms  of  conscious  activity  and  end  with  those  peculiar  to 
the  adult  civilized  man,  the  way  is  opened  for  that  ultimate 
analysis  which  alone  can  lead  us  to  the  true  science  of  the 
matter.  For  when  we  find  both  that  there  exist  in  a  man 
feeUngs  which  do  not  exist  in  a  child,  and  that  the  Euro- 
pean is  characterized  by  some  sentiments  which  are  wholly 
or  in  a  great  part  absent  fi'om  the  savage — when  we  see 
that,  besides  the  new  emotions  that  arise  spontaneously  as 
the  individual  becomes  completely  organized,  there  are  new 
emotions  making  their  appearance  in  the  more  advanced 
divisions  of  our  race ;  we  are  led  to  ask — How  are  new 
emotions  generated  ?  The  lowest  savages  have  not  even 
the  ideas  of  justice  or  mercy :  they  have  neither  words  for 
them  nor  can  they  be  made  to  conceive  them  ;  and  the  man- 
ifestation of  them  by  Europeans  they  ascribe  to  fear  or 
cunning.  There  are  aesthetic  emotions  common  among 
ourselves,  that  are  scarcely  in  any  degree  experienced  by 
some  inferior  races ;  as,  for  instance,  those  produced  by 
music.  To  which  instances  may  be  added  the  less  marked 
but  more  numerous  contrasts  that  exist  between  civilized 
races  in  the  degrees  of  their  several  emotions.  And  if  it 
is  manifest,  both  that  all  the  emotions  are  capable  of  being 
permanently  modified  in  the  course  of  successive  genera- 
tions, and  that  what  must  be  classed  as  new  emotions  may 
be  brought  into  existence ;  then  it  follows  that  nothing  like 
a  true  conception  of  the  emotions  is  to  be  obtained,  until  we 
understand  how  they  are  evolved. 

Comparative  psychology,  while  it  raises  this  inquiry, 
prepares  the  way  for  answering  it.  When  observing  the 
differences  between  races,  we  can  scarcely  fiiil  to  observe 
also  how  these  differences  correspond  with  differences  in  their 
conditions  of  existence,  and  therefore  in  their  daily  experi- 
ences.   Xote  the  contrast  between  the  circumstances  and  be- 


GENESIS    OF   NEW    EMOTIONS.  3()1 

tween  the  emotional  natures  of  savasje  and  civilized.  Amone: 
be  lowest  races  of  men,  love  of  property  stimulates  to  the 
obtainment  only  of  such  things  as  satisfy  immediate  desires 
or  desires  of  the  immediate  future.  Improvidence  is  the 
rule  :  there  is  httle  effort  to  meet  remote  contingencies.  But 
the  growth  of  established  societies,  having  gradually  given 
security  of  possession,  there  has  been  an  increasing  tendency 
to  provide  for  coming  years :  there  has  been  a  constant 
exercise  of  the  feehng  which  is  satisfied  by  a  provision  for 
the  future ;  and  there  has  been  a  growth  of  this  feeling  so 
great  that  it  now  prompts  accumulation  to  an  extent  be- 
yond what  is  needful.  Note,  again,  that  under  the  disci- 
pline of  social  life — under  a  comparative  abstinence  from 
aggressive  actions,  and  a  performance  of  those  mutually- 
serviceable  actions  implied  by  the  division  of  labour — 
there  has  been  a  development  of  those  gentle  emotions  of 
which  inferior  races  exhibit  but  the  rudiments.  Savages 
delight  in  giving  pain  rather  than  pleasure — are  almost  de- 
void of  sympathy.  While  among  ourselves  philanthropy 
organizes  itself  in  laws,  establishes  numerous  institutions, 
and  dictates  countless  private  benefactions. 

From  which  and  other  like  facts,  does  it  not  seem  an 
unavoidable  inference  that  new  emotions  are  developed  by 
new  experiences — new  habits  of  life  ?  All  are  familiar  with 
the  truth,  that  in  the  individual,  each  feeling  maybe  strength- 
ened by  performing  those  actions  which  it  prompts  ;  and  to 
say  that  the  feeling  is  strengthened^  is  to  say  that  it  is  in 
part  made  by  these  actions.  We  know  further,  that  not 
unfrequently,  individuals,  by  persistence  in  special  courses 
of  conduct,  acquire  special  likings  for  such  courses  disagree- 
able as  these  may  be  to  others  ;  and  these  whims,  or  mor- 
bid tastes,  imply  incipient  emotions  corresponding  to  these 
special  activities.  We  know  that  emotional  characteristics, 
in  common  with  all  others,  are  hereditary  ;  and  the  differ- 
ences between  civilized  nations  descended  from  the  same 


302  BAIN    ON    THE    EMOTIONS    AND   THE   WILL. 

Stock,  show  US  the  cumulative  results  of  small  modifications 
hereditarily  transmitted.  And  when  we  see  that  between 
savage  and  civilized  races,  which  diverged  from  each  other 
in  the  remote  past,  and  have  for  a  hundred  generations  fol- 
lowed modes  of  life  becoming  ever  more  unlike,  there  ex- 
ist still  greater  emotional  contrasts  ;  may  we  not  infer  that 
the  more  or  less  distinct  emotions  which  characterize  civil- 
ized races,  are  the  organized  results  of  certain  daily-repeat- 
ed combinations  of  mental  states  which  social  life  involves  ? 
Must  we  not  say  that  habits  not  only  modify  emotions  in 
the  individual,  and  not  only  beget  tendencies  to  like 
habits  and  accompanying  emotions  in  descendants,  but  that 
when  the  conditions  of  the  race  make  the  habits  per- 
sistent, this  progressive  modification  may  go  on  to  the  ex- 
tent of  producing  emotions  so  far  distinct  as  to  seem  new  ? 
And  if  so,  we  may  suspect  that  such  new  emotions,  and 
by  implication  all  emotions  analytically  considered,  consist 
of  aggregated  and  consolidated  groujjs  of  those  simpler 
feelings  which  habitually  occur  together  in  experience : 
that  they  result  from  combined  experiences,  and  are  con- 
stituted of  them. 

When,  in  the  circumstances  of  any  race,  some  one  kind  of 
action  or  set  of  actions,  sensation  or  set  of  sensations,  is  usual- 
ly followed,  or  accompanied  by,  various  other  sets  of  actions 
or  sensations,  and  so  entails  a  large  mass  of  pleasurable  or 
painful  states  of  consciousness  ;  these,  by  frequent  rej^etition, 
become  so  connected  together  that  the  initial  action  or  sensa- 
tion brings  the  ideas  of  all  the  rest  crowding  into  conscious- 
ness :  producing,  in  a  degree,  the  pleasures  or  pains  that 
have  before  been  felt  in  reality.  And  when  this  relation, 
besides  being  frequently  repeated  in  the  individual,  occurs 
in  successive  generations,  all  the  many  nervous  actions  in- 
volved tend  to  grow  organically  connected.  They  become 
incipiently  reflex  ;  and  on  the  occurrence  of  the  ajDpropriate 
stimulus,  the  whole  nervous  apparatus  which  in  past  gener 


% 


GKOWTII    OF    EMOTIONS    IN   ANIMALS.  3U3 

ations  was  brought  into  activity  by  this  stimulus,  becomes 
nascently  excited.  Even  while  yet  there  have  been  no  indi- 
vidual experiences,  a  vague  feehng  of  pleasure  or  pain  is 
produced ;  constituting  what  we  may  call  the  body  of  the 
emotion.  And  when  the  expei-iences  of  past  generations 
come  to  be  repeated  in  the  individual,  the  emotion  gains 
both  strength  and  definiteness  ;  and  is  accompanied  by  the 
appropiiate  specific  ideas. 

This  view  of  the  matter,  which  we  believe  the  estab- 
lished truths  of  Physiology  and  Psychology  unite  in  indi- 
cating, and  which  is  the  view  that  generalizes  the  pheno- 
mena of  habit,  of  national  characteristics,  of  civilization  in 
its  moral  aspects,  at  the  same  time  that  it  gives  us  a  con- 
ception of  emotion  in  its  origin  and  ultimate  nature,  may 
be  illustrated  from  the  mental  modifications  undergone  by 
animals. 

It  is  well-known  that  on  newly-discovered  lands  not  in- 
habited by  man,  birds  are  so  devoid  of  fear  as  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  knocked  over  with  sticks ;  but  that  in  the 
course  of  generations,  they  acquire  such  a  dread  of  man  as 
to  fly  on  his  approach  ;  and  that  this  dread  is  manifested  by 
young  as  well  as  old.  Now  unless  this  change  be  ascribed 
to  the  killing-ofi"  of  the  least  fearful,  and  the  preservation 
and  multiplication  of  the  more  fearful,  which,  considering 
the  comparatively  small  number  killed  by  man,  is  an  inade- 
quate cause  ;  it  must  be  ascribed  to  accumulated  expe- 
riences ;  and  each  experience  must  be  held  tO  have  a  share 
in  producing  it.  We  must  conclude  that  in  each  bird  that 
escapes  with  injuries  inflicted  by  man,  or  is  alarmed  by  the 
outcries  of  other  members  of  the  flock  (gregaiious  crea- 
tures of  any  intelligence  being  necessarily  more  or  less 
symDathetic),  there  is  established  an  association  of  ideas 
between  the  human  aspect  and  the  pains,  direct  and  indi- 
rect, suffered  fi-om  human  agency.  And  we  must  further 
conclude,  that  the  state  of  consciousness  which  impels  the 


304  BAIN    ON   THE   EMOTIONS   AND   THE   WILL. 

bird  to  take  flight,  is  at  first  nothing  more  than  an  ide»\i 
reproduction  of  those  painful  impressions  which  before  fol 
lowed  man's  approach ;  that  such  ideal  reproduction  be- 
comes more  vivid  and  more  massive  as  the  painful  expe- 
riences, direct  or  sympathetic,  increase ;  and  that  thus  the 
emotion  m  its  incipient  state,  is  nothing  else  than  an  aggre- 
gation of  the  revived  pains  before  experienced. 

As,  in  the  course  of  generations,  the  young  birds  of  this 
race  begin  to  display  a  fear  of  man  before  yet  they  have 
been  injured  by  him;  it  is  an  unavoidable  inference  that 
the  nervous  system  of  the  race  has  been  organically  modi- 
fied by  these  experiences  :  we  have  no  choice  but  to  con- 
clude that  when  a  young  bird  is  thus  led  to  fly,  it  is  be- 
cause the  impression  produced  on  its  senses  by  the  ap- 
proaching man,  entails,  through  an  incipiently-reflex  action, 
a  partial  excitement  of  all  those  nerves  which  in  its  ances- 
tors had  been  excited  under  the  like  conditions ;  that  this 
partial  excitement  has  its  accompanying  painful  conscious- 
ness; and  that  the  vague  jDainful  consciousness  thus  arising, 
constitutes  emotion  proper — emotion  tmdecomposahle  into 
specific  experiences^  and  therefore  seemingly  homogeneous. 

If  such  be  the  explanation  of  the  fact  in  this  case,  then 
it  is  in  all  cases.  If  emotion  is  so  generated  here,  then  it 
is  so  generated  throughout.  We  must  perforce  conclude 
that  the  emotional  modifications  displayed  by  difierent  na- 
tions, and  those  higher  emotions  by  which  civilized  are  dis- 
tinguished from  savage,  are  to  be  accounted  for  on  the 
same  principle.  And  concluding  this,  we  are  led  strongly 
to  suspect  that  the  emotions  in  general  have  severally  thus 
originated. 

Perhaps  we  have  now  made  sufficiently  clear  what  we 
mean  by  the  study  of  the  emotions  through  analysis  and 
development.  We  have  aimed  to  justify  the  positions  that, 
without  analysis  aided  by  develupment,  there  cannot  be  a 
true  natural  history  of  the  emotions ;  and  that  a  natural 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   TIIK    EMOTIONS   NEGLECTED.        305 

history  of  the  emotions  based  on  external  characters,  can 
be  but  provisional.  We  think  that  Mr.  Bain,  in  confining 
himself  to  an  account  of  the  emotions  as  they  exist  in  the 
adult  civilized  man,  has  neglected  those  classes  of  facts  out 
of  which  the  science  of  the  matter  must  chiefly  be  built. 
It  is  true  that  he  has  treated  of  habits  as  modifying  emo- 
tions in  the  individual ;  but  he  has  not  recognized  the  fact, 
that  where  conditions  render  habits  persistent  in  successive 
generations,  such  modifications  are  cumulative :  he  has  not 
hinted  that  the  modifications  produced  by  habit  are  emo 
tions  in  the  making.  It  is  true,  also,  that  he  occasionally 
refers  to  the  characteristics  of  children  ;  but  he  does  not 
systematically  trace  the  changes  througli  which  childhood 
passes  into  manhood,  as  throwing  light  on  the  order  and 
genesis  of  the  emotions.  It  is  further  true  that  he  here 
and  there  refers  to  national  traits  in  illustration  of  his  sub- 
ject ;  but  these  stand  as  isolated  facts,  having  no  general 
significance  :  there  is  no  hint  of  any  relation  between  them 
and  the  national  circumstances ;  while  all  those  many  moral 
contrasts  between  lower  and  higher  races  which  throw 
great  light  on  classification,  are  passed  over.  And  once 
more,  it  is  true  that  many  passages  of  his  work,  and  some- 
times, indeed,  whole  sections  of  it,  are  analytical ;  but  his 
analyses  are  incidental — they  do  not  underlie  his  entire 
scheme,  but  are  here  and  there  added  to  it.  In  brief,  he 
has  written  a  Descriptive  Psychology,  which  does  not  ap- 
peal to  Comparative  Psychology  and  Analytical  Psychol- 
ogy for  its  leading  ideas.  And  in  doing  this,  he  has  omit- 
ted much  that  should  be  included  in  a  natural  history  of 
the  mind ;  while  to  that  part  of  the  subject  with  which  he 
has  dealt,  he  has  given  a  necessarily-imperfect  organization. 

Even  leaving  out  of  view  the  absence  of  those  methods 
and  criteria  on  which  we  have  been  insisting,  it  appears  to 
as  that  meritorious  as  is  Mr.  Bain's  book  in  its  details,  it  is 


306  BAIN    ON    THE   EMOTIONS    AND   THE   WILL. 

defective  in  some  of  its  leading  ideas.  The  first  para 
graphs  of  his  first  chapter,  quite  startled  us  by  the  strange- 
ness of  their  definitions — a  strangeness  which  can -scarcely 
be  ascribed  to  laxity  of  expression.  The  paragraphs  run 
thus : — 

"  Mind  is  comprised  under  three  heads — Emotion,  Volition, 
and  Intellect. 

"  Emotiox  is  the  name  here  used  to  comprehend  all  that  is  un- 
derstood by  feelings,  states  of  feeling,  pleasures,  pains,  passions, 
sentiments,  affections.  Consciousness,  and  conscious  states  also 
for  the  most  part  denote  modes  of  emotion,  although  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  the  Intellectual  consciousness. 

"  Volition,  on  the  other  hand,  indicates  the  great  fact  that  our 
Pleasures  and  Pains,  which  are  not  the  whole  of  our  emotions, 
prompt  us  to  action,  or  stimulate  the  active  machinery  of  the  liv- 
ing framework  to  perform  such  operations  as  procure  the  first  and 
abate  the  last.  To  withdraw  from  a  scalding  heat  and  cling  to  a 
gentle  warmth,  are  exercises  of  volition." 

The  last  of  these  definitions,  which  we  may  most  con- 
veniently take  first,  seems  to  us  very  faulty.  We  cannot 
but  feel  astonished  that  Mr.  Bain,  familiar  as  he  is  with  the 
phenomena  of  reflex  action,  should  have  so  expressed  him- 
self as  to  include  a  great  part  of  them  along  with  the  phe- 
nomena of  volition.  He  seems  to  be  ignoring  the  discrimi- 
nations of  modern  science,  and  returning  to  the  vague  con- 
ceptions of  the  past — nay  more,  he  is  comprehending  under 
volition  what  even  the  popular  speech  would  hardly  bring 
under  it.  If  you  were  to  blame  any  one  for  snatching  his 
foot  from  the  scalding  water  into  which  he  had  inadvei  • 
tently  put  it,  he  would  tell  you  that  he  could  not  help  it; 
and  his  reply  would  be  indorsed  by  the  general  experience, 
that  the  withdrawal  of  a  limb  from  contact  with  something 
extremely  hot,  is  quite  involuntary — that  it  takes  place  not 
only  without  volition,  but  in  defiance  of  an  eflTort  of  will  to 
maintain  the  contact.     How,  then,  can  that  be  instanced  aa 


TOLTJNTART   AND   INVOLUNTARY   ACTIONS.  307 

an  example  of  volition,  which  occurs  even  when  volition  ia 
antagonistic  ?  We  are  quite  aware  that  it  is  impossible  to 
draw  any  absolute  line  of  demarcation  between  automatic 
actions  and  actions  which  are  not  automatic.  Doubtless 
we  may  pass  gradually  from  the  purely  reflex,  through  the 
consensual,  to  the  voluntary.  Taking  the  case  Mr.  Bain 
cites,  it  is  manifest  that  from  a  heat  of  such  moderate  de- 
gree that  the  withdrawal  from  it  is  wholly  voluntary,  we 
may  advance  by  infinitesimal  steps  to  a  heat  which  compels 
involuntary  withdrawal ;  and  that  there  is  a  stage  at  which 
the  voluntary  and  involuntary  actions  are  mixed.  But  the 
difficulty  of  absolute  discrimination  is  no  reason  for  neg- 
lecting the  broad  general  contrast ;  any  more  than  it  is  for 
confounding  light  with  darkness.  If  we  are  to  include  as 
examples  of  volition,  all  cases  in  which  pleasures  and  pains 
"  stimulate  the  active  machinery  of  the  living  framework 
to  perform  such  operations  as  procure  the  first  and  abate 
the  last,"  then  we  must  consider  sneezing  and  coughing,  as 
examples  of  volition ;  and  Mr.  Bain  surely  cannot  mean 
this.  Indeed,  we  must  confess  ourselves  at  a  loss.  On  the 
one  hand  if  he  does  not  mean  it,  his  expression  is  lax  to  a 
degree  that  surprises  us  in  so  careful  a  writer.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  he  does  mean  it,  we  cannot  understand  his 
point  of  view. 

A  parallel  criticism  applies  to  his  definition  of  Emotion. 
Here,  too,  he  has  departed  from  the  ordinary  acceptation 
of  the  word ;  and,  as  we  think,  in  the  wrong  direction. 
Whatever  may  be  the  interpretation  that  is  justified  by  its 
derivation,  the  word  Emotion  has  come  generally  to  mean 
that  kind  of  feeling  which  is  not  a  direct  result  of  any  ac- 
tion on  the  organism  ;  but  is  either  an  indirect  result  of 
euch  action,  or  arises  quite  apart  from  such  action.  It  is 
used  to  indicate  those  sentient  states  which  are  independ- 
ently generated  in  consciousness ;  as  distinguished  from 
those  generated  in  our  corporeal  framework,  and  known  aa 


308  BAIN    ON   THE    EMOTIONS    AND   THE    WILL. 

sensations.  IN'ow  this  distinction,  tacitly  made  in  common 
speech,  is  one  which  Psychology  cannot  well  reject ;  but  one 
which  it  must  adopt,  and  to  which  it  must  give  scientific 
precision.  Mr.  Bain,  however,  appears  to  ignore  any  such 
distinction.  Under  the  term  "  emotion,"  he  includes  not 
only  passions,  sentiments,  affections,  but  all  "  feelings,  states 
of  feeUng,  j^leasures,  pains," — that  is,  all  sensations.  This 
does  not  appear  to  be  a  mere  lapse  of  expression  ;  for  when, 
in  the  opening  sentence,  he  asserts  that  *'  mind  is  comprised 
under  the  three  heads — Emotion,  Volition,  and  Intellect," 
he  of  necessity  implies  that  sensation  is  included  under  one 
of  these  heads  ;  and  as  it  cannot  be  included  under  Volition 
or  Intellect,  it  must  be  classed  with  Emotion  :  as  it  clearly 
is  in  the  next  sentence. 

We  cannot  but  think  this  is  a  retrograde  step.  Though 
distinctions  which  have  been  established  in  popular  thought 
and  language,  are  not  unfrequently  merged  in  the  higher 
generalizations  of  science  (as,  for  instance,  when  crabs  and 
worms  are  grouped  together  in  the  sub-kingdom  Annu- 
losa  /)  yet  science  very  generally  recognizes  the  validity  of 
these  distinctions,  as  real  though  not  fundamental.  And  so 
in  the  present  case.  Such  community  as  analysis  discloses 
between  sensation  and  emotion,  must  not  shut  out  the 
broad  contrast  that  exists  between  them.  If  there  needs  a 
wider  word,  as  there  does,  to  signify  any  sentient  state 
whatever;  then  we  may  fitly  adopt  for  this  purpose  the 
word  currently  so  used,  namely,  "  Feeling."  And  consid- 
ering as  Feelings  all  that  great  division  of  mental  states 
which  we  do  not  class  as  Cognitions,  may  then  separate 
this  great  division  into  the  two  orders.  Sensations  and  Emo- 
tions. 

And  here  we  may,  before  concluding,  briefly  indicate 
the  leading  outlines  of  a  classification  which  reduces  this 
distinction  to  a  scientific  form,  and  developes  it  somewhat 


CLASSIFICATION   OF   THE   COGNITIONS.  309 

further — a  classification  which,  while  suggested  by  certain 
fundamental  traits  reached  without  a  very  lengthened  in- 
quiry, is  yet,  we  believe,  in  harmony  with  that  disclosed  by 
detailed  analysis. 

Leaving  out  of  view  the  Will,  which  is  a  simple  homo- 
geneous mental  state,  forming  the  link  between  feeling 
and  action,  and  not  admitting  of  subdivisions  ;  our  states  oi 
consciousness  fall  into  two  great  classes — Cognitions  and 
Feelings. 

Cognitions,  or  those  modes  of  mind  in  which  we  are 
occupied  with  the  relations  that  subsist  among  our  feelings, 
are  divisible  into  four  great  sub-classes. 

Presentative  cognitions  /  or  those  in  which  conscious- 
ness is  occupied  in  localizing  a  sensation  impressed  on  the 
organism — occupied,  that  is,  with  the  relation  between  this 
presented  mental  state  and  those  other  presented  mental 
states  which  make  up  our  consciousness  of  the  part  affected: 
as  when  we  cut  ourselves. 

Presentative-represe7itative  cognitions  j  or  those  in 
which  consciousness  is  occupied  with  the  relation  between 
a  sensation  or  group  of  sensations  and  the  representa- 
tions of  those  various  other  sensations  that  accompany  it 
in  experience.  This  is  what  we  commonly  call  perception 
— an  act  in  which,  along  with  certain  impressions  presented 
to  consciousness,  there  arise  in  consciousness  the  ideas  of 
certain  other  impressions  ordinarily  connected  with  the 
presented  ones :  as  when  its  visible  form  and  colour, 
lead  us  to  mentally  endow  an  orange  with  all  its  other 
attributes. 

Representative  cognitio7is  ;  or  those  in  which  conscious- 
ness is  occupied  with  the  relations  among  ideas  or  repre- 
sented sensations  :  as  in  all  acts  of  recollection. 

lie -representative  cognitions  j  or  those  in  which  the 
occupation  of  consciousness  is  not  by  representation  of 
special  relations,  that  have  before  been  presented  to  con 


310  BAIN   ON   THE   EMOTIONS   AND    THE   WILL. 

Bciousness ;  but  those  in  which  such  represented  special 
relations  are  thought  of  merely  as  comprehended  in  a  gen- 
eral relation — those  in  which  the  concrete  relations  once 
experienced,  in  so  far  as  they  become  objects  of  conscious- 
ness at  all,  are  incidentally  represented,  along  with  the 
abstract  relation  which  formulates  them.  The  ideas  result- 
ing from  this  abstraction,  do  not  themselves  represent  ac- 
tual experiences ;  but  are  symbols  which  stand  for  groups 
of  such  actual  experiences — represent  aggregates  of  repre- 
sentations. And  thus  they  may  be  called  re-represen- 
tative cognitions.  It  is  clear  that  the  process  of  re-repre- 
sentation is  carried  to  hisfher  stao^es,  as  the  thougjht  be- 
comes  more  abstract. 

Feelings,  or  those  modes  of  mind  in  which  we  ara 
occupied,  not  with  the  relations  subsisting  between  our  sen- 
tient states,  but  with  the  sentient  states  themselves,  are  di- 
visible into  four  parallel  sub-classes. 

Presentative  feelings,  ordinarily  called  sensations,  are 
those  mental  states  in  which,  instead  of  regarding  a  corpo- 
real impression  as  of  this  or  that  kind,  or  as  located  here  or 
there,  we  'contemplate  it  in  itself  as  pleasure  or  pain  :  as 
when  eating. 

Presentatwe-representatwe  feelings,  embracing  a  great 
part  of  what  we  commonly  call  emotions,  are  those  in 
which  a  sensation,  or  group  of  sensations  or  group  of  sen- 
sations and  ideas,  arouses  a  vast  aggregation  of  represented 
sensations ;  partly  of  individual  experience,  but  chiefly 
deeper  than  individual  experience,  and,  consequently,  in- 
definite. The  emotion  of  terror  may  serve  as  an  example. 
Along  with  certain  impressions  made  on  the  eyes  or  ears, 
or  both,  are  recalled  in  consciousness  many  of  the  pains  to 
which  such  impressions  have  before  been  the  antecedents ; 
and  when  the  relation  between  such  impressions  and  such 
pains  has  been  habitual  in  the  race,  the  definite  ideas  of 
iuch   pains    wliich   individual    experience    has   given,    ar€ 


CLASSIFICATION    OF   THE   FEELIBTGS.  311 

ftcoomj^aniedby  the  inclefinite  pains  that  result  from  inherit- 
ed experience — vague  feelings  which  we  may  call  organic 
representations.  In  an  infant,  crying  at  a  strange  sight  or 
sound  while  yet  in  the  nurse's  arms,  we  see  these  organic 
representations  called  into  existence  in  the  shape  of  dim 
discomfort,  to  which  individual  experience  has  yet  given 
no  specific  outlines. 

Mepreseiitative  feelings^  comprehending  the  ideas  of 
the  feelings  above  classed,  when  they  are  called  up  apart 
from  the  appropriate  external  excitements.  As  instances 
of  these  may  be  named  the  feelings  with  which  the  descrip- 
tive poet  writes,  and  which  are  aroused  in  the  minds  of  his 
readers. 

Re-representative  feelmgs^  under  which  head  are  included 
those  more  complex  sentient  states  that  are  less  the  direct 
results  of  external  excitements  than  the  indirect  or  reflex 
results  of  them.  The  love  of  property  is  a  feeling  of  this 
kind.  It  is  awakened  not  by  the  presence  of  any  special 
object,  but  by  ownable  objects  at  large  ;  and  it  is  not  from 
the  mere  presence  of  such  object,  but  from  a  certain  ideal 
relation  to  them,  that  it  arises.  As  before  shown  (p.  311) 
it  consists,  not  of  the  represented  advantages  of  possessing 
this  or  that,  but  of  the  represented  advantages  of  posses- 
sion in  general — is  not  made  up  of  certain  concrete  repre- 
sentations, but  of  the  abstracts  of  many  concrete  represen- 
tations ;  and  so  is  re-representative.  The  higher  senti- 
ments, as  that  of  justice,  are  still  more  completely  of  this 
nature.  Here  the  sentient  state  is  compounded  out  of 
sentient  states  that  are  themselves  wholly,  or  almost  wholly, 
re-representative:  it  involves  representations  of  those  low- 
er emotions  which  are  produced  by  the  possession  of  prop- 
erty, by  freedom  of  action  etc.;  and  thus  is  re-representa- 
tive in  a  higher  degree. 

This  classification,  here  roughly  indicated  and  capable 
^f  further  expansion,  will  be  found  in  harmony  with  the  re- 


312  BAIN    ON   THE  EMOTIONS    AND    THE    WILL. 

suits  of  detailed  analysis  aided  by  development.  Whether 
we  trace  mental  progression  through  the  grades  of  the  ani- 
mal kingdom,  through  the  grades  of  mankind,  or  through 
the  stages  of  individual  growth  ;  it  is  obvious  that  the  ad 
vance,  alike  in  cognitions  and  feelings,  is,  and  must  be, 
from  the  presentative  to  the  more  and  more  remotely  rep- 
resentative. It  is  undeniable  that  intelligence  ascends 
from  those  simple  perceptions  in  which  consciousness  is 
occupied  in  localizing  and  classifying  sensations,  to  percep- 
tions more  and  more  compound,  to  simple  reasoning,  to 
reasoning  more  and  more  complex  and  abstract — more 
and  more  remote  from  sensation.  And  in  the  evolution  of 
feelings,  there  is  a  parallel  series  of  steps.  Simple  sensa- 
tions ;  sensations  combined  together  ;  sensations  combined 
with  represented  sensations ;  rej^resented  sensations  organ- 
ized into  groups,  in  which  their  separate  characters  are 
very  much  merged ;  representations  of  these  representa- 
tive groups,  in  which  the  original  components  have  be- 
come still  more  vague.  In  both  cases,  the  progress 
has  necessarily  been  from  the  simple  and  concrete  to 
the  complex  and  abstract :  and  as  with  the  cognitions, 
so  Tvith  the  feelings,  this  must  be  the  basis  of  classifi- 
cation. 

The  space  here  occupied  with  criticisms  on  Mr.  Bain's 
work,  we  might  have  filled  with  exposition  and  eulogy,  had 
we  thought  this  the  more  important.  Though  we  have 
freely  pointed  out  what  we  conceive  to  be  its  defects,  let  it 
not  be  inferred  that  we  question  its  great  merits.  We  re- 
peat that,  as  a  natural  history  of  the  mind,  we  believe  it  to 
be  the  best  yet  produced.  It  is  a  most  valuable  collection 
of  carefully-elaborated  materials.  Perhaps  we  cannot  bet- 
ter express  our  sense  of  its  worth,  than  by  saying  that,  to 
those  who  hereafter  give  to  this  branch  of  Pi^ychology  a 
thoroughly  scientific  organization,  Mr.  Bain's  book  will  be 
indispensable. 


VIII 
ILLOGICAL  GEOLOGY. 


ri"^HAT  proclivity  to  generalization  which  is  possessed  in 
_J_  greater  or  less  degree  by  all  minds,  and  without  which 
indeed,  intelligence  cannot  exist,  has  unavoidable  incon- 
veniences. Through  it  alone  can  truth  be  reached ;  and 
yet  it  almost  inevitably  betrays  into  error.  But  for  the 
tendency  to  predicate  of  every  other  case,  that  which  has 
been  found  in  the  observed  cases,  there  could  be  no  ra- 
tional thinking ;  and  yet  by  this  indispensable  tendency, 
men  are  perpetually  led  to  found,  on  limited  exj^erience, 
propositions  which  they  wrongly  assume  to  be  universal  or 
absolute.  In  one  sense,  however,  this  can  scarcely  be  re- 
garded as  an  evil;  for  without  premature  generalizations 
the  true  generalization  would  never  be  arrived  at.  If  we 
waited  till  all  the  facts  were  accumulated  before  trying  to 
formulate  them,  the  vast  unorganized  mass  would  be  un- 
manageable. Only  by  provisional  grouping  can  they  be 
brought  into  such  order  as  to  be  dealt  with ;  and  this  pro- 
visional grouping  is  but  another  name  for  premature  gen- 
eralization. 

How  uniformly  men  follow  this  course,  and  how  need- 
ful thejerrors  are  as  ste£S_to^  truth,  is  well  illustrated  in  the 
history  of  Astronomy.     The  heavenly  bodies  move  round 
14 


314  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

the  Earth  in  circles,  said  the  earliest  observers :  led  partly 
by  the  appearances,  and  partly  by  their  experiences  of  cen- 
tral motions  in  terrestrial  objects,  with  which,  as  all  circu- 
lar, they  classed  the  celestial  motions  from  lack  of  any 
alternative  conception.  Without  this  provisional  belief, 
wrong  as  it  was,  there  could  not  have  been  that  compari- 
son of  positions  which  showed  that  the  motions  are  not 
representable  by  circles ;  and  which  led  to  the  hypothesis 
of  ei3i cycles  and  eccentrics.  Only  by  the  aid  of  this  hy- 
pothesis, equally  untrue,  but  capable  of  accounting  more 
nearly  for  the  appearances,  and  so  of  inducing  more  ac- 
curate observations — only  thus  did  it  become  possible  for 
Copernicus  to  show  that  the  heliocentric  theory  is  more 
feasible  than  the  geocentric  theory ;  or  for  Kepler  to  show 
that  the  planets  move  round  the  sun  in  ellipses.  Yet 
again,  without  the  aid  of  this  approximate  truth  discovered 
by  Kepler,  Xewton  could  not  have  established  that  general 
law  from  which  it  follows,  that  the  motion  of  a  heavenly 
body  round  its  centre  of  gravity  is  not  necessarily  in  an 
ellipse,  but  may  be  in  any  conic  section.  And  lastly,  it 
was  only  after  the  law  of  gravitation  had  been  verified, 
that  it  became  possible  to  determine  the  actual  courses  of 
planets,  satellites,  and  comets ;  and  to  prove  that,  in  con- 
sequence of  perturbations,  their  orbits  always  deviate,  more 
or  less,  from  regular  curves.  Thus,  there  followed  one 
another  five  provisional  theories  of  the  Solar  System, 
before  the  sixth  and  absolutely  true  theory  was  reached. 
In  which  five  provisional  theories,  each  for  a  time  held 
as  final,  we  may  trace  both  the  tendency  men  have  to 
leap  from  scanty  data  to  wide  generalizations,  that  are 
either  untrue  or  but  partially  true ;  and  the  necessity 
there  is  for  these  transitional  generalizations  as  steps  to  the 
final  one. 

In  the  progress  of  geological  speculation  the  same  laws 
of  thought  are  clearly  displayed.     We  have  dogmas  that 


HOW   THE   SCIENCE   HAS   BEEN    DEVELOPED.  315 

were  more  than  half  false,  passing  current  for  a  time  a« 
universal  truths.  We  have  evidence  collected  in  proof  of 
these  dogmas  ;  by  and  by  a  colligation  of  facts  in  antagon- 
ism with  them  ;  and  eventually  a  consequent  modification. 
In  conformity  with  this  somewhat  improved  hypothesis,  we 
have  a  better  classification  of  facts ;  a  greater  power  of 
arranging  and  interpreting  the  new  facts  now  rapidly 
gathered  together ;  and  further  resulting  corrections  of 
hypothesis.  Being,  as  we  are  at  present,  in  the  midst  of 
this  process,  it  is  not  possible  to  give  an  adequate  account 
of  the  development  of  geological  science  as  thus  regarded  : 
the  earlier  stages  are  alone  known  to  us.  Not  only,  how- 
ever, is  it  interesting  to  observe  how  the  more  advanced 
views  now  received  respecting  the  Earth's  history,  have 
been  evolved  out  of  the  crude  views  which  preceded  them; 
but  we  shall  find  it  extremely  instructive  to  observe  this. 
"We  shall  see  hoAV  greatly  the  old  ideas  still  sway,  both  the 
general  mind,  and  the  minds  of  geologists  themselves. 
We  shall  see  how  the  kind  of  evidence  that  has  in  part 
abolished  these  old  ideas,  is  still  daily  accumulating,  and 
threatens  to  make  other  like  revolutions.  In  brief,  we 
shall  see  whereabouts  we  are  in  the  elaboration  of  a  true 
theory  of  the  Earth  ;  and,  seeing  our  whereabouts,  shall  be 
the  better  able  to  judge,  among  various  conflicting  ojoinions, 
which  best  conform  to  the  ascertained  direction  of  geologi- 
cal discovery. 

It  is  alike  needless  and  impracticable  here  to  enumerate 
the  many  S23eculations  which  were  in  earlier  ages  propound- 
ed by  acute  men — speculations  some  of  which  contained 
portions  of  truth.  FaUing  in  unfit  times,  these  speculations 
did  not  germinate;  and  hence  do  not  concern  us.  We 
have  nothing  to  do  with  ideas,  however  good,  out  of  which 
no  science  grew  ;  but  only  with  those  which  gave  origin  to 
the  system  of  Geology  that  now  exists.  We  therefore  be- 
gin with  Werner 


316  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

Taking  for  data  the  appearances  of  the  Earth's  crust  m 
a  narrow  district  of  Germany  ;  observing  the  constant  or- 
der of  superposition  of  strata,  and  their  respective  physical 
characters  ;  Werner  drew  the  inference  that  strata  of  hke 
characters  succeeded  each  other  in  Hke  order  over  the  en- 
tire  surface  of  the  Earth.  And  seeing,  from  the  laminated 
structure  of  many  formations  and  the  organic  remains  con- 
tained in  others,  that  they  were  sedimentary ;  he  further 
inferred  that  these  universal  strata  had  been  in  succession 
precipitated  from  a  chaotic  menstruum  which  once  cov- 
ered our  pknet.  Thus,  on  a  very  incomplete  acquaintance 
with  a  thousandth  part  of  the  Earth's  crust,  he  based  a 
sweeping  generalization  applying  to  the  whole  of  it.  This 
Neptunist  hypothesis,  mark,  borne  out  though  it  seemed  to 
be  by  the  most  conspicuous  surrounding  facts,  was  quite 
imtenable  if  analyzed.  That  a  universal  chaotic  menstraum 
should  deposit,  one  after  another,  numerous  sharply-defined 
strata,  differing  from  each  other  in  composition,  is  incom- 
prehensible. That  the  strata  so  deposited  should  contain 
the  remains  of  plants  and  animals,  which  could  not  have 
lived  under  the  supposed  conditions,  is  still  more  incom- 
prehensible. Physically  absurd,  however,  as  was  this  hypo- 
thesis, it  recognized,  though  under  a  distorted  form,  one 
of  the  great  agencies  of  geological  change — that  of  water. 
It  served  also  to  express  the  fact  that  the  formations  of  the 
Earth's  crust  stand  in  some  kind  of  order.  Further,  it  did 
a  little  towards  supplying  a  nomenclature,  without  which 
much  progress  was  impossible.  Lastly,  it  furnished  a  stand- 
ard with  which  successions  of  strata  in  various  regions 
could  be  compared,  the  differences  noted,  and  the  actual 
sections  tabulated.  It  was  the  first  provisional  generaliza- 
tion ;  and  was  useful,  if  not  indispensable,  as  a  step  to  truer 
ones. 

Following  this  rude  conception,  which  ascribed  geologi- 
cal phenomena  to  one  agency,  acting  during  one  primeval 


THEOEIES   OF   WERNER   AND   IILTTON.  317 

epoch,  there  came  a  greatly-improved  conception,  which 
ascribed  them  to  t^yo  agencies,  acting  alternately  during 
successive  epochs.  Hutton,  j^erceiving  that  sedimentary 
deposits'  were  still  being  formed  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
from  the  detritus  carried  down  by  rivers ;  perceiving,  fur- 
ther, that  the  strata  of  which  the  visible  surface  chiefly  con- 
sists, bore  marks  of  having  been  similarly  formed  out  of 
pre-existing  land ;  and  inferring  that  these  strata  could 
have  become  land  only  by  upheaval  after  their  deposit ; 
concluded  that  throughout  an  indefinite  past,  there  had 
been  periodic  convulsions,  by  which  continents  were  raised, 
with  intervening  eras  of  repose,  during  which  such  continents 
were  worn  down  and  transformed  into  new  marine  strata, 
fated  to  be  in  their  turns  elevated  abov^e  the  surface  of  the 
ocean.  And  finding  that  igneous  action,  to  which  sundry 
earlier  geologists  had  ascribed  basaltic  rocks,  was  in  count- 
less places  a  source  of  disturbance,  he  taught  that  from  it 
resulted  these  periodic  convulsions.  In  this  theory  we  see : 
— first,  that  the  previously-recognized  agency  of  water  was 
conceived  to  act,  not  as  by  Werner,  after  a  manner  of 
which  we  have  no  experience,  but  after  a  manner  daily  dis- 
played to  us  ;  and  second,  that  the  igneous  agency,  before 
considered  only  as  a  cause  of  special  formations,  was  rec- 
ognized as  a  universal  agency,  but  assumed  to  act  in  an 
unproved  way.  Werner's  sole  process,  Hutton  developed 
from  the  catastrophic  and  inexj)licable  into  the  uniform  and 
explicable ;  while  that  antagonistic  second  process,  of 
which  he  first  adequately  estimated  the  importance,  was 
regarded  by  him  as  a  catastrophic  one,  and  was  not  assimi- 
lated  to  known  processes — not  explained.  We  have  here 
to  note,  however,  that  the  facts  collected  and  provisionally 
arranged  in  conformity  with  Werner's  theory,  served, 
after  a  time,  to  establish  Button's  more  rational  theory 
— in  so  far,  at  least,  as  aqueous  formations,  are  concerned ; 
cvhile  the  doctrine  of  periodic  subterranean  convulsions, 


318  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

crudely  as  it  was  conceived  by  Hutton,  was  a  temporary 
generalization  needful  as  a  step  towards  the  theory  of  igne- 
ous action. 

Since  Hutton's  time,  the  development  of  geological 
thought  has  gone  still  further  in  the  same  direction.  These 
early  sweeping  doctrines  have  received  additional  qualifica- 
tions. It  has  been  discovered  that  more  numerous  and 
more  heterogeneous  agencies  have  been  at  work,  than  was 
at  first  believ€?d.  The  igneous  hypothesis  has  been  ration- 
alized, as  the  aqueous  one  had  previously  been :  the  gratui- 
tous assumption  of  vast  elevations  suddenly  occurring  after 
long  intervals  of  quiescence,  has  grown  into  the  consistent 
theory,  that  islands  and  continents  are  the  accumulated  re- 
sults of  successive  small  upheavals,  like  those  experienced 
in  ordinary  earthquakes. 

To  speak  more  specifically,  we  find,  in  the  first  place, 
that  instead  of  assuming  the  denudation  produced  by  rain 
and  rivers  to  be  the  sole  means  of  wearing  down  lands  and 
producing  their  irregularities  of  surface,  geologists  now 
see  that  denudation  is  only  a  part-cause  of  such  irregulari- 
ties ;  and  further,  that  the  new  strata  deposited  at  the  botr 
tom  of  the  sea,  are  not  the  products  of  river-sediment  sole- 
ly, but  are  in  part  due  to  the  action  of  waves  and  tidal  cur- 
rents on  the  coasts.  In  the  second  place,  we  find  that  Hut- 
ton's  conception  of  upheaval  by  subterranean  forces,  has  not 
only  been  modified  by  assimilating  these  subterranean  forces 
to  ordinary  earthquake-forces;  but  modern  inquiries  have 
Bhown  that,  besides  elevations  of  surface,  subsidences  are  thus 
produced  ;  that  local  upheavals,  as  well  as  the  general  up- 
heavals, which  raise  continents,  come  within  the  same 
category  ;  and  that  all  these  changes  are  probably  con- 
sequent on  the  progressive  collapse  of  the  Earth's  crust 
upon  its  cooling  and  contracting  nucleus — the  only  ade- 
quate cause.  In  the  third  place,  we  find  that  beyond 
these  two  great  antagonist  agencies,  modern  Geology  re* 


TKOGEESS    OF    GEOLOGIC   THEORY  319 

cognises  sundry  minor  ones  :  as  those  of  glaciers  and  ice- 
bergs ;  those  of  coral-polypes ;  those  of  Protozoa  having 
siliceous  or  calcareous  shells — each  of  which  agencies,  insig- 
nificant as  it  seems,  is  found  ca])able  of  slowly  working 
terrestrial  changes  of  considerable  magnitude.  Thus,  then, 
the  recent  progress  of  Geology  has  been  a  still  further  de- 
parture from  primitive  conceptions.  Instead  of  one  cata- 
strophic cause,  once  in  universal  action,  as  supposed  by 
Werner — instead  of  one  general  continuous  cause,  antago- 
nized at  long  intervals  by  a  catastrophic  cause,  as  taught 
by  Hutton  ;  we  now  recognize  several  causes,  all  more  or 
less  general  and  continuous.  We  no  longer  resort  to  hy- 
pothetical agencies  to  exj^lain  the  phenomena  displayed  by 
the  Earth's  crust;  but  we  are  day  by  day  more  clearly  per- 
ceiving that  these  phenomena  have  arisen  from  forces  like 
those  now  at  work,  which  have  acted  in  all  varieties  of 
combination,  through  immeasurable  periods  of  time. 

Having  thus  briefly  traced  the  evolution  of  geologic 
science,  and  noted  its  present  form,  let  us  go  on  to  observe 
the  way  in  which  it  is  still  swayed  by  the  crude  hypotheses 
it  set  out  with ;  so  that  even  now,  old  doctrines  that  are 
abandoned  as  untenable  in  theory,  continue  in  practice  to 
mould  the  ideas  of  geologists,  and  to  foster  sundry  beliefs 
that  are  logically  indefensible.  We  shall  see,  both  how 
those  simple  sweeping  conceptions  with  which  the"  science 
commenced,  are  those  which  every  student  is  apt  at  first  to 
seize  hold  of,  and  how  several  influences  conspire  to  main- 
tain the  twist  thus  resulting — how  the  original  nomencla- 
ture of  periods  and  formations  necessarily  keej)S  alive  the 
original  implications  ;  and  how  the  need  for  arranging  new 
data  in  some  order,  naturally  results  in  their  being  thrust 
into  the  old  classification,  unless  their  incongruity  with  it  is 
very  glaring.  A  few  facts  will  best  prepare  the  way  for 
criticism. 


320  n.LOGICAL   GEOLOGV. 

Up  to  1839  it  was  inferred,  from  their  crystalline  char- 
acter, that  the  metamorphic  rocks  of  Anglesea  are  more 
ancient  than  any  rocks  of  the  adjacent  main  land  ;  but  it 
has  since  been  shown  that  they  are  of  the  same  age  with  the 
slates  and  grits  of  Carnarvon  and  Merioneth.  Again,  slaty 
cleavage  having  been  first  found  only  in  the  lowest  rocks, 
was  taken  as  an  indication  of  the  highest  antiquity :  whence 
resulted  serious  mistakes ;  for  this  mineral  characteristic 
is  now  known  to  occur  in  the  Carboniferous  system.  Once 
more,  certain  red  conglomerates  and  grits  on  the  north-west 
coast  of  Scotland,  long  supposed  from  their  lithological  as- 
pect to  belong  to  the  Old  Red  Sandstone,  are  now  identifi- 
ed with  the  Lower  Silurians. 

These  are  a  few  instances  of  the  small  trust  to  be  placed  in 
mineral  qualities,  as  evidence  of  the  ages  or  relative  posi- 
tions of  strata.  From  the  recently-published  third  edition 
of  Siluria^  may  be  culled  numerous  facts  of  like  implication. 
Sir  R.  Murchison  considers  it  ascertained,  that  the  siliceous 
Stiper  stones  of  Shropshire  are  the  equivalents  of  the  Tre- 
madock  slates  of  North  Wales.  Judged  by  their  fossils, 
Bala  slate  and  limestone  are  of  the  same  age  as  the  Cara- 
doc  sandstone,  lying  forty  miles  off.  In  Radnorshire,  the 
formation  classed  as  upper  Llandovery  rock,  is  described 
at  diflerent  spots,  as  "  sandstone  or  conglomerate,"  "  impure 
limestone,"  "  hard  coarse  grits,"  "  siliceous  grit  " — a  consid- 
erable variation  for  so  small  an  area  as  that  of  a  county. 
Certain  sandy  beds  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Towy,  which 
Sir  R.  Murchison  had,  in  his  Silurian  System^  classed  aa 
Caradoc  sandstone  (evidently  from  their  mineral  characters), 
he  now  finds,  from  their  fossils,  belong  to  the  Llandeilo  for- 
mation. Nevertheless,  inferences  from  mineral  characters 
are  still  habitually  drawn  and  received.  Though  Silw%a, 
in  common  with  other  geological  works,  supplies  numerous 
proofs  that  rocks  of  the  same  age  are  often  of  widely-dif- 
ferent composition  a  few  miles  off,  while  rocks  of  widely 


MINERAL    CHARACTEES    OF    STRATA   UNCERTAIN.       32] 

different  ages  are  often  of  similar  composition  ;  and  though 
Sir.  R.  Murchison  shows  us,  as  in  the  case  just  cited,  that 
he  has  himself  in  past  times  been  misled  by  trusting  to  lith- 
ological  evidence  ;  yet  his  reasoning,  all  through  Siluria, 
shows  that  he  still  thinks  it  natural  to  expect  formations  of 
the  same  age  to  be  chemically  similar,  even  in  remote  re- 
gions. For  example,  in  treating  of  the  Silurian  rocks  of 
South  Scotland,  he  says: — "When  traversing  the  tract  be- 
tween Dumfries  and  Moffat  in  1850,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
the  dull  reddish  or  purple  sandstone  and  schist  to  the  north 
of  the  former  town,  which  so  resembled  the  bottom  rocks 
of  the  Longmynd,  Llanberis,  and  St.  David's,  would 
prove  to  be  of  the  same  age ; "  and  further  on  he  again 
insists  upon  the  fact  that  these  strata  "  are  absolutely  of 
the  same  composition  as  the  bottom  rocks  of  the  Silurian 
region." 

On  this  unity  of  mineral  character  it  is,  that  this  Scot- 
tish formation  is  concluded  to  be  contemporaneous  with 
the  lowest  formations  in  Wales ;  for  the  scanty  paloeontolo- 
gical  evidence  suffices  neither  for  proof  nor  disproof.  Now, 
had  there  been  a  continuity  of  like  strata  in  like  order  be- 
tween Wales  and  Scotland,  there  might  have  been  little  to 
criticise  in  this  conclusion.  But  since  Sir  R.  Murchison 
himself  admits,  that  in  Westmoreland  and  Cumberland, 
some  members  of  the  system  ^*  assume  a  lithological  aspect 
different  from  what  they  maintain  in  the  Silurian  and 
Welsh  region,"  there  seems  no  reason  to  expect  miueralogical 
continuity  in  Scotland.  Obviously  therefore,  the  assump- 
tion that  these  Scottish  formations  are  of  the  same  age 
with  the  Longmynd  of  Shropshire,  implies  the  latent  be- 
lief that  certain  mineral  characters  indicate  certain  eras. 

Far  more  striking  instances,  however,  of  the  influence 
of  this  latent  belief  remain  to  be  given.  Not  in  such  com- 
paratively near  districts  as  the  Scottish  lowlands  only,  does 
Sir  R.  Murchison  expect  a  repetition  of  the  Longmynd 


322  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

strata ;  but  in  the  Rbenisb  provinces,  certain  "  quartzose 
flagstones  and  grits,  like  those  of  the  Longmynd,"  are 
seemingly  concluded  to  be  of  contemporaneous  origin,  be- 
cause of  their  likeness.  "  Quartzites  in  roofing-slates  with 
a  greenish  tinge  that  reminded  us  of  the  lower  slates  of 
Cumberland  and  Westmoreland,"  are  evidently  suspected 
to  be  of  the  same  age.  In  Russia,  he  remarks  that  the  car- 
boniferous limestones  "  are  overlaid  along  the  western  edge 
of  the  Ural  chain  by  sandstones  and  grits,  which  occupy 
much  the  same  place  in  the  general  series  as  the  millstone 
grit  of  England ; "  and  in  calling  this  group,  as  he  does, 
the  "  representative  of  the  millstone  grit,"  Sir  K.  Murchi- 
son  clearly  shows  that  he  thinks  likeness  of  mineral  compo- 
sition some  evidence  of  equivalence  in  time,  even  at  that 
great  distance.  Nay,  on  the  flanks  of  the  Andes  and  in 
the  United  States,  such  similarities  are  looked  for,  and  con- 
sidered as  significant  of  certain  ages.  Not  that  Sir  R.  Mur- 
chison  contends  theoretically  for  this  relation  between  litho- 
logical  character  and  date.  For  on  the  page  from  which 
we  have  just  quoted  {Slluria,  p.  387),  he  says,  that  "w^hilst 
the  soft  Lower  Silurian  clays  and  sands  of  St.  Petersburg 
have  their  equivalents  in  the  hard  schists  and  quartz  rocks 
with  gold  veins  in  the  heart  of  the  Ural  mountains,  the 
equally  soft  red  and  green  Devonian  marls  of  the  Yaldai 
Hills  are  represented  on  the  western  flank  of  that  chain,  by 
hard,  contorted,  and  fractured  limestones."  But  these, 
and  other  such  admissions,  seem  to  go  for  little.  Whilst 
himself  asserting  that  the  Potsdam-sandstone  of  North 
America,  the  Lingula-flags  of  England,  and  the  alum-slates 
of  Scandinavia  are  of  the  same  period — while  fully  aware 
that  among  the  Silurian  formations  of  Wales,  there  are 
oolitic  strata  like  those  of  secondary  age  ;  yet  is  his  reason  ■ 
ing  more  or  less  coloured  by  the  assumption,  that  forma- 
tions of  like  qualities  probably  belong  to  the  same  era.  I^ 
it  not  manifest,  then,  that  the  exploded  hypothesis  of  Wer- 
uer  continues  to  influence  geological  speculation? 


ASSUMED    UNlVEKSALrrY    OF    8TKATIFIED    GEOUPS.     323 

"  Bill,"  it  will  perhaps  be  said,  "  though  iiidividual 
strata  are  not  continuous  over  large  areas,  yet  systems  of 
strata  are.  Thouo-h  within  a  few  miles  the  same  bed  jjrad- 
ually  passes  from  clay  into  sand,  or  thins  out  and  disap- 
pears, yet  the  group  of  strata  to  which  it  belongs  does  not 
do  so ;  but  maintains  in  remote  regions  the  same  relations 
to  other  groups." 

This  is  the  generally-current  belief.  On  this  assump- 
tion the  received  geological  classifications  appear  to  be 
framed.  The  Silurian  system,  the  Devonian  system,  the 
Carboniferous  system,  etc.,  are  set  down  in  our  books  as 
groups  of  formations  which  everywhere  succeed  each  other 
in  a  given  order;  and  are  severally  everywhere  of  the  same 
age.  Though  it  may  not  be  asserted  that  these  successive 
systems  are  universal ;  yet  it  seems  to  be  tacitly  assumed 
that  they  are  so.  In  North  and  South  America,  in  Asia, 
in  Australia,  sets  of  strata  are  assimilated  to  one  or  other 
of  these  groups ;  and  their  possession  of  certain  mineral 
characters  and  a  certain  order  of  superposition  are  among 
the  reasons  assigned  for  so  assimilating  them.  Though, 
probably,  no  competent  geologist  would  contend  that  the 
European  classification  of  strata  is  applicable  to  the  globe 
as  a  whole ;  yet  most,  if  not  all  geologists,  write  as  though 
it  were  so.  Among  readers  of  works  on  Geology,  nine  out 
ten  carry  away  the  impression  that  the  divisions.  Primary, 
Secondary  and  Tertiaiy,  are  of  absolute  and  uniform  appli- 
cation ;  that  these  great  divisions  are  separable  into  subdi- 
visions, each  of  which  is  definitely  distinguishable  from  the 
rest,  and  is  everywhere  recognizable  by  its  characters  as 
Buch  or  such ;  and  that  in  all  parts  of  the  Earth,  these 
minor  systems  severally  began  and  ended  at  the  same  time. 
When  they  meet  with  the  term  "  carboniferous  era,"  they 
take  for  granted  that  it  was  an  era  universally  carbonife- 
rous—that it  was,  what  Hugh  Miller  indeed  actually  de- 
gcribes  it,  an  era  when  the  Earth  bore  a  vegetation  far 


324  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

more  luxuriant  than  it  has  since  done  ;  and  were  they  in 
any  of  our  colonies  to  meet  with  a  coal-bed,  they  would 
conclude  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  it  was  of  the  same 
asre  as  the  Eno-Ush  coal-beds. 

ISTow  this  belief  that  geologic  "  systems  "  are  universal, 
is  quite  as  untenable  as  the  other.  It  is  just  as  absurd 
when  considered  a  priori  y  and  it  is  equally  inconsistent 
with  the  facts.  Though  some  series  of  strata  classed  to- 
gether as  Oolite,  may  range  over  a  wider  district  than  any 
one  stratum  of  the  series ;  yet  we  have  but  to  ask  what 
were  the  circumstances  of  its  deposit,  to  see  that  the  Oolitic 
series,  like  one  of  its  individual  strata,  must  be  of  local 
origin  ;  and  that  there  is  not  likely  to  be  anywhere  else,  a 
series  that  exactly  corresj^onds,  either  in  its  characters  or 
in  its  commencement  and  termination.  For  the  formation 
of  such  a  series  implies  an  area  of  subsidence,  in  which  its 
component  beds  were  thrown  down.  Every  area  of  sub- 
sidence is  necessarily  limited ;  and  to  suppose  that  there 
exist  elsewhere  groups  of  beds  completely  answering  to 
those  known  as  Oolite,  is  to  suppose  that,  in  contempora- 
neous areas  of  subsidence,  like  processes  were  going  on. 
There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  this;  but  every  reason  to 
suppose  the  reverse.  That  in  contemporaneous  areas  of 
subsidence  throughout  the  globe,  the  conditions  would 
cause  the  formation  of  Oolite,  or  anything  like  it,  is  an  as- 
sumption which  no  modern  geologist  would  openly  make  ; 
he  would  say  that  the  equivalent  series  of  beds  found  else- 
where, would  very  likely  be  of  dissimilar  mineral  charac- 
ter. 

Moreover,  in  these  contemporaneous  areas  of  subsi- 
dence, the  phenomena  going  on  would  not  only  be  more  or 
less  different  in  kind ;  but  in  no  two  cases  would  they  be 
likely  to  agree  in  their  commencements  and  terminations. 
The  probabilities  are  greatly  against  separate  portions  of 
♦^,he  Earth's  surface  beginning  to  subside  at  the  same  time. 


GEOLOGIC    SYSTEMS   NOT   UNIVERSAL.  325 

and  ceasing  to  subside  at  the  same  time — a  comcidenco 
which  alone  could  produce  equivalent  groups  of  strata. 
Subsidences  in  different  places  begin  and  end  with  utter 
irregularity ;  and  hence  the  groups  of  strata  thrown  down 
in  them  can  but  rarely  correspond.  Measured  against  each 
other  in  time,  their  limits  will  disagree.  They  will  refuse 
to  fit  into  any  scheme  of  definite  divisions.  On  turning  to 
the  evidence,  we  find  that  it  daily  tends  more  and  more  to 
justify  these  a  priori  positions.  Take,  as  an  example,  the 
Old  Red  Sandstone  system.  In  the  north  of  England  this 
is  represented  by  a  single  stratum  of  conglomerate.  In 
Herefordshire,  "Worcestershire,  and  Shropshire,  it  expands 
into  a  series  of  strata  from  eight  to  ten  thousand  feet  thick, 
made  up  of  conglomerates,  red,  green,  and  white  sand- 
stones, red,  green,  and  spotted  marls,  and  concretionary 
limestones.  To  the  south-west,  as  between  Caermarthen 
and  Pembroke,  these  Old  Red  Sandstone  strata  exhibit 
considerable  lithological  changes ;  and  there  is  an  absence 
of  fossil  fishes.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Bristol  Channel, 
they  display  further  changes  in  mineral  characters  and  re- 
mains. While  in  South  Devon  and  Cornwall,  the  equiva- 
lent strata,  consisting  chiefly  of  slates,  schists,  and  lime- 
stones, are  so  wholly  different,  that  they  were  for  a  long 
time  classed  as  Silurian.  When  we  thus  see  that  in  certain 
directions  the  whole  group  of  deposits  thins  out,  and  that 
its  mineral  characters  as  well  as  its  fossils  change  within 
moderate  distances ;  does  it  not  become  clear  that  the 
whole  group  of  deposits  was  a  local  one  ?  And  when  we 
find,  in  other  regions,  formations  analogous  to  these  Old 
Red  Sandstone  or  Devonian  formations  ;  is  it  certain — is  it 
even  probable — that  they  severally  began  and  ended  at  the 
same  time  with  them  ?  Should  it  not  require  overwhelm- 
ing evidence  to  make  us  believe  as  much  ? 

Yet  so  strongly  is  geological  speculation  swayed  by  the 
tendency  to  regard  the  phenomena  as  general  instead  of 


326  ILLOaiCAL   GEOLOGY. 

local,  that  even  those  most  on  then*  guard  against  it  seem 
unable  to  escape  its  influence.  At  page  158  of  his  JPriiici' 
pies  of  Geology i  Sir  Charles  Lyell  says  : — 

"  A  group  of  red  marl  and  red  sandstone,  containing  salt  and 
gypsum,  being  interposed  in  England  between  the  Lias  and  the 
Coal,  all  other  red  marls  and  sandstones,  associated  some  of  them 
with  salt,  and  others  with  gypsum,  and  occurring  not  only  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  i\urope,  but  in  North  America,  Peru,  India,  the 
Bait  deserts  of  Asia,  those  of  Africa — in  a  word,  in  every  quarter 
of  the  globe,  were  referred  to  one  and  the  same  period.  .  .  . 
.  .  It  was  in  vain  to  urge  as  an  objection  the  improbability  of 
the  hypothesis  which  implies  that  all  the  moving  waters  on  the 
globe  were  once  simultaneously  charged  with  sediment  of  a  red 
colour.  But  the  rashness  of  pretending  to  identify,  in  age,  all  the 
red  sandstones  and  marls  in  question,  has  at  length  been  suffi- 
ciently exposed,  by  the  discovery  that,  even  in  Europe,  they  be- 
long decidedly  to  many  different  epochs." 

Nevertheless,  while  in  this  and  numerous  passages  of 
like  implication.  Sir  C.  Lyell  protests  against  the  bias  here 
illustrated,  he  seems  himself  not  comj)letely  free  from  it. 
Though  he  utterly  rejects  the  old  hypothesis  that  all  over 
the  Earth  the  same  continuous  strata  lie  upon  each  other 
in  regular  order,  like  the  coats  of  an  onion,  he  still  writes 
as  though  geologic  "  systems"  do  thus  succeed  each  other. 
A  reader  of  his  Manual  would  certainly  suppose  him  to 
believe,  that  the  Primary  epoch  ended,  and  the  Secondary 
epoch  commenced,  all  over  the  world  at  the  same  time — 
that  these  terms  really  correspond  to  distinct  universal  eras 
in  Nature.  When  he  assumes,  as  he  does,  that  the  divis- 
ion between  Cambrian  and  Lower  Silurian  in  America,  an- 
swers chronologically  to  the  division  between  Cambrian 
and  Lower  Silurian  in  Wales — when  he  takes  for  granted 
that  the  partings  of  Lower  from  Middle  Silurian,  and  of 
Middle  Silurian  from  Upper,  in  the  one  region,  are  of  the 
same  dates  as  tl  e  like  partings  in  the  other  region ;  does  it 


CONTINUED   INFLUENCE   OF    EXPLODED    VIEWS.        327 

not  seem  that  he  believes  geologic  "  systems "  to  be  uni- 
versal, in  the  sense  that  their  separations  were  in  all  places 
contemporaneous  ?  Though  he  would,  doubtless,  disown 
this  as  an  article  of  faith,  is  not  his  thinking  unconsciously 
influenced  by  it  ?  Must  we  not  say  that  though  the  onion- 
coat  hypothesis  is  dead,  its  spirit  is  traceable,  under  a  trans- 
cendental form,  even  in  the  conclusions  of  its  antagonists  ? 

Let  us  now  consider  another  leading  geological  doc- 
trine, introduced  to  us  by  the  cases  just  mentioned.  We 
mean  the  doctrine  that  strata  of  the  same  age  contain  like 
fossils ;  and  that,  therefore,  the  age  and  relative  position  of 
any  stratum  may  be  known  by  its  fossils.  While  the  the- 
ory that  strata  of  like  mineral  characters  were  everywhere 
deposited  simultaneously,  has  been  ostensibly  abandoned, 
there  has  been  accepted  the  theory  that  in  each  geologic 
epoch  similar  plants  and  animals  existed  everywhere  ;  and 
that,  therefore,  the  epoch  to  which  any  formation  belongs 
may  be  known  by  the  organic  remains  contained  in  the 
formation.  Though,  perhaps,  no  leading  geologist  would 
openly  commit  himself  to  an  unqualified  assertion  of  this 
theory,  yet  it  is  tacitly  assumed  in  current  geological  rea- 
soning. 

This  theory,  however,  is  scarcciy  more  tenable  than  the 
other.  It  cannot  be  concluded  with  any  certainty,  that 
formations  in  which  similar  organic  remains  are  found,  were 
of  contemporaneous  origin ;  nor  can  it  be  safely  concluded 
that  strata  containing  different  organic  remains  are  of  dif- 
ferent ages.  To  most  readers  these  will  be  startling  propo- 
sitions ;  but  they  are  fully  admitted  by  the  highest  author- 
ities. Sir  Charles  Lyell  confesses  that  the  test  of  organic 
remains  must  be  used  "  under  very  much  the  same  restric- 
tions as  the  test  of  mineral  composition."  Sir  Henry  de  la 
Beche,  who  variously  illustrates  this  truth,  gives,  as  one 
mstance,  the  great  mcongruity  there  must  be  between  the 


328  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

fossils  of  our  caiboniferous  rocks  and  those  of  the  marine 
strata  deposited  at  the  same  period.  But  though,  in  tha 
abstract,  the  danger  of  basing  positive  conclusions  on  evi- 
dence derived  from  fossils,  is  clearly  recognized  ;  yet,  in  the 
concrete,  this  danger  is  generally  disregarded.  The  estab- 
lished conclusions  respecting  the  ages  of  strata,  take  but 
little  note  of  it ;  and  by  some  geologists  it  seems  altogether 
ignored.  Throughout  his  Siluria^  Sir  R.  Murchison  habit- 
ually assumes  that  the  same,  or  kindred,  species,  lived  in 
all  parts  of  the  Earth  at  the  same  time.  In  Russia,  in  Bo- 
hemia, in  the  United  States,  in  South  America,  strata  are 
classed  as  belonging  to  this  or  that  part  of  the  Silurian  sys- 
tem, because  of  the  similar  fossils  contained  in  them — are 
concluded  to  be  everywhere  contemporaneous  if  they  en- 
close a  proportion  of  identical  or  allied  forms.  In  Russia 
the  relative  position  of  a  stratum  is  inferred  from  the  fact 
that,  along  with  some  Wenlock  forms,  it  yields  the  JPenta- 
ineru8  ohlongus.  Certain  crustaceans  called  Eurypteri,  be- 
ing characteristic  of  the  Upper  Ludlow  rock,  it  is  remarked 
that  "  large  Eurypteri  occur  in  a  so-called  black  grey-wacke 
slate  in  Westmoreland,  in  Oneida  County,  New  York, 
which  will  probably  be  found  to  be  on  the  parallel  of  the 
Upper  Ludlow  rock  : "  in  which  word  "  probably,"  we  see 
both  how  dominant  is  this  belief  of  universal  distribution 
of  similar  creatures  at  the  same  period,  and  how  apt  this 
belief  is  to  make  its  own  proof,  by  raising  the  expectation 
that  the  ages  are  identical  when  the  forms  are  alike.  Be- 
sides thus  interpreting  the  formations  of  Russia,  England, 
and  America,  Sir  R.  Murchison  thus  interprets  those  of  the 
antipodes.  Fossils  from  Victoria  Colony,  he  agrees  with 
the  Government-surveyor  in  classing  as  of  Lower  Silurian 
or  Llandovery  age :  that  is,  he  takes  for  granted  that  when 
certain  crustaceans  and  moUusks  were  Uving  in  "Wales,  cer- 
tain similar  crustaceans  and  mollusks  were  living  in  Aus- 
tralia 


THE   TEST.  OF    ORGANIC   REMAINS.  329 

Yet  the  improbability  of  this  assumption  ma}- be  readily 
shown  from  Sir  R.  Murchison's  own  facts.  If,  as  he  points 
out,  the  crustacean  fossils  of  the  uppermost  Silurian  rocks 
in  Lanarkshire  are,  "  with  one  doubtful  exception,"  "  all 
distinct  from  any  of  the  forms  on  the  same  horizon  in  Eng- 
land ;  "  how  can  it  be  fairly  presumed  that  the  forms  exist- 
ing on  the  other  side  of  the  Earth  during  the  Silurian 
j^eriod,  were  nearly  allied  to  those  existing  here  ?  Not 
only,  indeed,  do  Sir  R.  Murchison's  conclusions  tadtly  as- 
sume this  doctrine  of  universal  distribution,  but  he  distinctly 
enunciates  it.  "The  mere  presence  of  a  gra2:)tolite,"  he 
says,  "  will  at  once  decide  that  the  enclosing  rock  is  Silu- 
rian ; "  and  he  says  this,  notwithstanding  repeated  warnings 
against  such  generalizations.  During  the  progress  of  Geolo- 
gy, it  has  over  and  over  again  happened  that  a  particular 
fossil,  long  considered  characteristic  of  a  particular  forma- 
tion, has  been  afterwards  discovered  in  other  formations. 
Until  some  twelve  years  ago,  Goniatites  had  not  been  found 
lower  than  the  Devonian  rocks;  but  now,  in  Bohemia,  they 
have  been  found  in  rocks  classed  as  Silurian.  Quite  re- 
cently, the  Orthoceras,  previously  supposed  to  be  a  type 
exclusively  palaeozoic,  has  been  detected  along  with  meso- 
zoic  Ammonites  and  Belemnites.  Yet  hosts  of  such  experi- 
ences fail  to  extinguish  the  assumption,  that  the  age  of  a 
stratum  may  be  determined  by  the  occurrence  in  it  of  a 
emgle  fossil  form. 

Nay,  this  assumption  survives  evidence  of  even  a  still 
more  destructive  kind.  Referring  to  the  Silurian  system 
in  Western  Ireland,  Sir  R.  Murchison  says,  "  in  the  beds 
near  Maam,  Professor  Mcol  and  myself  collected  remains, 
some  of  which  would  be  considered  Lower,  and  others 
Upper,  Silurian  ;  "  and  he  then  names  sundry  fossils  "vvhichj 
in  England,  belong  to  the  summit  of  the  Ludlow  rocks,  or 
highest  Silurian  strata  ;  "  some,  which  elsewhere  are  known 
only  in  rocks  of  Llandovery  age,"  that  is,  of  middle  Silu- 


830  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

rian  age ;  and  some,  only  before  known  in  Lower  Siluriar 
strata,  not  far  above  the  most  ancient  fossiliferous  beds 
Now  what  do  these  facts  prove  ?  Clearly,  they  prove  that 
species  which  in  "Wales  are  separated  by  strata  more  than 
twenty  thousand  feet  deep,  and  therefore  seem  to  belong 
to  periods  far  more  remote  from  each  other,  were  really 
coexistent.  They  prove  that  the  moUusks  and  orinoids 
held  characteristic  of  early  Silurian  strata,  and  supposed  to 
have  become  extinct  long  before  the  mollusks  and  crinoids 
of  the  later  Silurian  strata  came  into  existence,  were  really 
flourishing  at  the  same  time  with  these  last;  and  that  these 
last  j^ossibly  date  back  to  as  early  a  period  as  the  first. 
They  prove  that  not  only  the  mineral  characters  of  sedi- 
mentary formations,  but  also  the  collections  of  organic 
forms  they  contain,  depend,  to  a  great  extent,  on  local  cir- 
cumstances. They  prove  that  the  fossils  met  with  in  any 
series  of  strata,  cannot  be  taken  as  representing  anything 
Uke  the  whole  Flora  and  Fauna  of  the  period  they  belong 
to.  In  brief,  they  throw  great  doubt  upon  numerous  geo- 
logical generalizations. 

Notwithstanding  facts  like  these,  and  notwithstanding 
his  avowed  opinion  that  the  test  of  organic  remains  must  be 
used  "  under  very  much  the  same  restrictions  as  the  test  of 
mineral  composition,"  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  too,  bases  positive 
conclusions  on  this  test :  even  where  the  community  of 
fossils  is  slight  and  the  distance  great.  Having  decided 
that  in  various  places  in  Europe,  middle  Eocene  strata  are 
distinguished  by  nummulites ;  he  infers,  without  any  other 
assigned  evidence,  that  wherever  nummulites  are  found — 
in  Morocco,  Algeria,  Egypt,  in  Persia,  Scinde,  Cutch,  East- 
ern Bengal,  and  the  frontiers  of  China — the  containing  for- 
mation is  middle  Eocene.  And  from  this  inference  he 
draws  the  following  important  corollary  : — 

*  When  we  have  once  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  the 


33  L 

aummulitic  formation  occupies  a  middle  jjlace  in  the  Eocene 
series,  we  are  struck  with  the  comparatively  modern  date  to 
which  some  of  the  greatest  revohitions  in  the  physical  geographj 
of  Europe,  Asia,  and  northern  Africa  must  be  referred.  All 
the  mountain  chains,  such  as  the  Alps,  Pyrenees,  Carpathians, 
and  Himalayas,  into  the  composition  of  whose  central  and  lof- 
tiest parts  the  nummulitic  strata  enter  bodily,  could  have  had  no 
existence  till  after  the  middle  Eocene  period." — Manual^  p.  232. 

A  still  more  marked  case  follows  on  the  next  page. 
Because  a  certain  bed  at  Claiborne  in  Alabama,  which  con- 
tains '■''four  hundred  species  of  marine  shells,"  includes 
^mong  them  the  Cardita  platiicosta^  "and  some  others 
.dentical  with  European  species,  or  very  nearly  allied  to 
them,"  Sir  C.  Lyell  says  it  is  "  highly  probable  the  Clai- 
borne beds  agree  in  age  with  the  central  or  Bracldesham 
group  of  England."  When  we  find  contemporaneity  sup- 
posed on  the  strength  of  a  community  no  greater  than  that 
which  sometimes  exists  between  strata  of  widely-difierent 
ages  in  the  same  country,  it  seems  very  much  as  though 
the  above-quoted  caution  had  been  forgotten.  It  appears 
to  be  assumed  for  the  occasion,  that  species  which  had  a 
wide  range  in  sj^ace  had  a  narrow  range  m  time  ;  which  is 
the  reverse  of  the  fact.  The  tendency  to  systematize  over- 
rides the  evidence,  and  thrusts  Nature  into  a  formula  too 
rigid  to  fit  her  endless  variety. 

"  But,"  it  may  be  urged,  "  surely,  when  in  difierent 
places  the  order  of  superposition,  the  mineral  characters, 
and  the  fossils,  agree,  it  may  be  safely  concluded  that  the 
formations  thus  corresponding  are  equivalents  in  time.  If, 
for  example,  the  United  States  display  the  same  succes- 
sion of  Silurian,  Devonian,  and  Carboniferous  systems,  lith- 
ologically  similar,  and  characterized  by  like  fossils,  it  is  a 
fair  inference  that  these  groups  of  strata  were  severally 
deposited  in  America  at  the  same  periods  that  they  were 
deposited  here.'' 


332  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

On  this  position,  which  seems  a  strong  one,  we  have,  in 
the  first  place,  to  remark,  that  the  evidence  of  correspond- 
ence is  always  more  or  less  suspicious.  We  have  already 
adverted  to  the  several  "  idols  " — if  we  may  use  Bacon's 
metaphor — to  which  geologists  unconsciously  sacrifice, 
when  interpreting  the  structures  of  unexplored  regions. 
Carrying  with  them  the  classification  of  strata  existing  in 
Europe,  and  assuming  that  groups  of  strata  in  other  parts 
of  the  world  must  answer  to  some  of  the  groups  of  strata 
known  here,  they  are  necessarily  prone  to  assert  parallel- 
ism on  insufiicient  evidence.  They  scarcely  entertain  the 
previous  question,  whether  the  formations  they  are  examin- 
ing have  or  have  not  any  European  equivalents;  but  the 
question  is — with  which  of  the  European  series  shall  they 
be  classed? — with  which  do  they  most  agree  ? — from  which 
do  they  differ  least  ?  And  this  being  the  mode  of  enquiry, 
there  is  apt  to  result  great  laxity  o€  interpretation.  How 
lax  the  interpretation  really  is,  may  be  readily  shown. 
When  strata  are  discontinuous,  as  between  Europe  and 
America,  no  evidence  can  be  derived  from  the  order  of 
superposition,  apart  from  mineral  characters  and  organic 
remains  ;  for,  unless  strata  can  be  continuously  traced,  min- 
eral characters  and  organic  remains  are  the  only  means  of 
classing  them  as  such  or  such. 

As  to  the  test  of  mineral  characters,  we  have  seen  that 
it  is  almost  worthless ;  and  no  modern  geologist  would 
dare  to  say  it  should  be  relied  on.  If  the  Old  Red  Sand- 
stone series  in  mid-England,  differs  wholly  in  lithological 
aspect  from  the  equivalent  series  in  South  Devon,  it  is  clear 
that  similarities  of  texture  and  composition  can  have  no 
weight  in  assimilating  a  system  of  strata  in  another  quar- 
ter of  the  globe  to  some  European  system.  The  test  of 
fossils,  therefore,  is  the  only  one  that  remains ;  and  with 
how  little  strictness  this  test  is  applied,  one  case  will  show. 
Of  forty-six   species  of  British  Devonian  corals,  only  six 


INADEQUATE   EVIDENCE   OF   SYNCHRONISM.  333 

occur  ill  America ;  and  this,  notwithstanding  the  wide 
range  which  the  Anthozoa  are  known  to  have.  Similarly 
of  the  Mollusca  and  Crinoidea,  it  appears  that,  while  then 
are  sundry  genera  found  in  Aaierica  that  are  found  here, 
there  are  scarcely  any  of  the  same  species.  And  Sir 
Charles  Lyell  admits  that  "  the  difficulty  of  deciding  on 
the  exact  parallelism  of  the  New  York  subdivisions,  as 
above  enumerated,  with  the  members  of  the  European 
Devonian,  is  very  great,  so  few  are  the  species  in  common." 
Yet  it  is  on  the  strength  of  community  of  fossils,  that  the 
whole  Devonian  series  of  the  United  States  is  assumed  to 
be  contemporaneous  with  the  whole  Devonian  series  of 
England.  And  it  is  partly  on  the  ground  that  the  Devo- 
nian of  the  United  States  corresponds  in  time  with  our  De- 
vonian, that  Sir  Charles  Lyell  concludes  the  superjacent 
coal-measures  of  the  two  countries  to  be  of  the  same  age. 
Is  it  not,  then,  as  we  said,  that  the  evidence  in  these  cases 
is  very  suspicious  ? 

Should  it  be  replied,  as  it  may  fairly  be,  that  this  cor- 
respondence from  which  the  synchronism  of  distant  forma- 
tions is  inferred,  is  not  a  correspondence  between  particu- 
lar species  or  particular  genera,  but  between  the  general 
characters  of  the  contained  assemblages  of  fossils — between 
\hQ  fades  of  the  two  Faunas;  the  rejoinder  is,  that  though 
such  correspondence  is  a  stronger  evidence  of  synchronism 
it  is  still  an  insufficient  one.  To  infer  synchronism  from 
such  correspondence,  involves  the  postulate  that  through- 
out each  geologic  era  there  has  habitually  existed  a  recog- 
nizable similarity  between  the  groups  of  organic  forms  in- 
habiting all  the  diffi3rent  parts  of  the  Earth ;  and  that  the 
causes  which  have  in  one  part  of  the  Earth  changed  the  or- 
ganic forms  into  those  which  characterize  the  next  era,  have 
Bimultaneously  acted  in  all  other  parts  of  the  Earth,  in  such 
ways  as  to  produce  parallel  changes  of  their  organic  forms. 
Now^  this  is  not  only  a  large  assumption  to  make  ;  but  it  is 


3oi  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

an  assumption  contrary  to  probability.  The  probability  ia, 
that  the  causes  which  have  changed  Faunas  have  been  locai 
rather  than  universal;  that  hence  while  the  Faunas  of 
some  regions  have  been  rapidly  changing,  those  of  others 
have  been  almost  quiescent ;  and  that  when  such  others 
have  been  changed,  it  has  been,  not  in  such  ways  as  to 
maintain  parallelism,  but  in  such  ways  as  to  produce  diver- 
gence. 

Even  supposing,  however,  that  districts  some  hundreds 
of  miles  apart,  furnished  groups  of  strata  that  completely 
agreed  in  their  order  of  superposition,  their  mineral  charac- 
ters, and  their  fossils,  we  should  still  have  inadequate  proof 
of  contemporaneity.  For  there  are  conditions,  very  likely 
to  occur,  under  which  such  groups  might  differ  widely  in 
age.  If  there  be  a  continent  of  which  the  strata  crop  out 
on  the  surface  obliquely  to  the  line  of  coast — running,  sa}-, 
west-northwest,  while  the  coast  runs  east  and  west — it  is 
clear  that  each  group  of  strata  will  crop  out  on  the  beach 
at  a  particular  part  of  the  coast ;  that  further  west  the  next 
group  of  strata  will  crop  out  on  the  beach ;  and  so  continu- 
ously. As  the  localization  of  marine  plants  and  animals  is 
in  a  considerable  degree  determined  by  the  nature  of  the 
rocks  and  their  detritus,  it  follows  that  each  part  of  this 
coast  will  have  its  more  or  less  distinct  Flora  and  Fauna. 
What  now  must  result  from  the  action  of  the  waves  in  the 
course  of  a  geologic  epoch?  As  the  sea  makes  slow  inroads 
on  the  land,  the  place  at  which  each  group  of  strata  crops 
out  on  the  beach  will  gradually  move  towards  the  west : 
its  distinctive  fish,  mollusks,  crustaceans,  and  sea-weeds, 
migrating  with  it.  Further,  the  detritus  of  each  of  these 
groups  of  strata  will,  as  the  point  of  outcrop  moves  west- 
wards, be  deposited  over  the  detritus  of  the  group  in  ad- 
vance of  it.  And  the  consequence  of  these  actions,  carried 
on  for  one  of  those  enormous  periods  required  for  geologio 
changes,  will  be  that,  corresponding  to  each  eastern  stratum. 


VARIETY   OF    STRATA   NOW   FORMING.  335 

there  will  arise  a  stratum  far  to  the  west  which,  though  oc- 
cupying the  same  position  relatively  to  other  beds,  formed 
of  like  materials,  and  containing  like  fossils,  will  yet  be  per 
haps  a  million  years  later  in  date. 

But  the  illegitimacy,  or  at  any  rate  the  great  doubtful- 
ness, of  many  current  geological  inferences,  is  best  seen 
when  we  contemplate  terrestrial  changes  now  going  on  : 
and  ask  how  far  such  inferences  are  countenanced  by  them. 
If  we  carry  out  rigorously  the  modern  method  of  interpret- 
ing geological  phenomena,  which  Sir  Charles  Lyell  has  done 
so  much  to  establish — that  of  referring  them  to  causes  like 
those  at  present  in  action — we  cannot  fail  to  see  how  im- 
probable are  sundry  of  the  received  conclusions. 

Along  each  line  of  shore  that  is  being  worn  away  by 
the  waves,  there  are  being  formed  mud,  sand,  and  pebbles. 
This  detritus,  spread  over  the  neighbouring  sea-bottom, 
has,  in  each  locality,  a  more  or  less  special  character ;  de- 
termined by  the  nature  of  the  strata  destroyed.  In  the 
English  Channel  it  is  not  the  same  as  in  the  Irish  Channel ; 
on  the  east  coast  of  Ireland  it  is  not  the  same  as  on  the 
west  coast;  and  so  throughout.  At  the  mouth  of  each 
great  river,  there  is  being  deposited  sediment  differing 
more  or  less  from  that  of  other  rivers  in  colour  and  quali- 
ty ;  forming  strata  that  are  here  red,  there  yellow,  and 
elsewhere  brown,  grey,  or  dirty  white.  Besides  which  va- 
rious formations,  going  on  in  deltas  and  along  shores,  there 
are  some  much  wider  and  still  more  contrasted  formations. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  ^goean  Sea,  there  is  accumulating 
a  bed  of  Pteropod  shells,  which  will  eventually,  no  doubt, 
become  a  calcareous  rock.  For  some  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  square  miles,  the  ocean-bed  between  Great  Britain 
and  North  America,  is  being  covered  with  a  stratum  of 
chalk ;  and  over  large  areas  in  the  Pacific,  there  are  going 
»n  deposits  of  coralline  hmestone.     Thus,  throughout  the 


ooO  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

Earth,  there  are  at  this  moment  being  prodaced  an  im- 
mense number  of  strata  differing  from  each  other  in  litho 
logical  characters.  Xame  at  random  any  one  part  of  the 
sea-bottom,  and  ask  whether  the  deposit  there  taking  j^lace 
is  hke  the  deposit  taking  place  at  some  distant  part  of  the 
sea-bottom,  and  the  almost-certainly  correct  answer  will  be 
— Xo.  The  chances  are  not  in  favour  of  similarity,  but 
very  greatly  against  it. 

In  the  order  of  superposition  of  strata  there  is  occur- 
ing  a  like  variety.  Each  region  of  the  Earth's  surface  has 
its  special  history  of  elevations,  subsidences,  periods  of 
rest ;  and  this  history  in  no  case  fits  chronologically  with 
the  history  of  any  other  portion.  Kiver  deltas  are  now  be- 
ing thrown  down  on  formations  of  quite  different  ages. 
While  here  there  has  been  deposited  a  series  of  beds  many 
hundreds  of  feet  thick,  there  has  elsewhere  been  deposited 
but  a  single  bed  of  fine  mud.  While  one  region  of  the 
Earth's  crust,  continuing  for  a  vast  epoch  above  the  surface 
of  the  ocean,  bears  record  of  no  changes  save  those  result- 
ing from  denudation ;  another  region  of  the  Earth's  crust 
gives  proof  of  various  changes  of  level,  with  their  several 
resulting  masses  of  stratified  detritus.  If  anything  is  to 
be  judged  from  current  processes,  we  must  infer,  not  only 
that  everywhere  the  succession  of  sedimentary  formations 
differs  more  or  less  from  the  succession  elsewhere  ;  but  also 
that  in  each  place,  there  exist  groups  of  strata  to  which 
many  other  places  have  no  equivalents. 

With  respect  to  the  organic  bodies  imbedded  in  forma- 
tions now  in  progress,  the  like  truth  is  equally  manifest,  if 
not  more  manifest.  Even  along  the  same  coast,  within 
moderate  distances,  the  forms  of  life  differ  very  considera- 
bly ;  much  more  on  coasts  that  are  remote  from  each  other. 
Again,  dissimilar  creatures  that  are  living  together  near  the 
same  shore,  do  not  leave  their  remains  in  the  same  beds  of 
sediment.      For  instance,  at  the  bottom  of  the  Adriatic. 


MODERN    DEPOSITS    OF    ORGANIC   REMAINS.  337 

where  the  prevaihng  currents  cause  the  deposits  to  lie  here 
of  mud,  aud  there  of  calcareous  matter,  it  is  proved  that 
difierent  species  of  co-existing  shells  are  being  buried  in 
these  respective  formations.  On  our  own  coasts,  the  ma- 
rine  remains  found  a  few  miles  from  shore,  in  banks  where 
fish  congregate,  are  difierent  from  those  found  close  to  the 
shore,  where  only  littoral  species  flourish.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  aquatic  creatures  have  structures  that  do  not  admit 
of  fossilization ;  while  of  the  rest,  the  great  majority  are 
destroyed,  when  dead,  by  the  various  kinds  of  scavengers 
that  creep  among  the  rocks  and  weeds.  So  that  no  one 
deposit  near  our  shores  can  contain  anything  like  a  true 
re^^resentation  of  the  Fauna  of  the  surrounding  sea ;  much 
less  of  the  co-existing  Faunas  of  other  seas  in  the  same  lat- 
itude ;  and  still  less  of  the  Faunas  of  seas  in  distant  lati- 
tudes. Were  it  not  that  the  assertion  seems  needful,  it 
would  be  almost  absurd  to  say,  that  the  organic  remains 
now  being  buried  in  the  Dogger  Bank,  can  tell  us  next 
to  nothing  about  the  fish,  crustaceans,  mollusks,  and  corals 
that  are  being  buried  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal. 

Still  stronger  is  the  argument  in  the  case  of  terrestrial 
life.  With  more  numerous  and  greater  contrasts  between 
the  plants  and  animals  of  remote  places,  there  is  a  far  more 
imperfect  registry  of  them.  Schouw  marks  out  on  the  Earth 
more  than  twenty  botanical  regions,  occupied  by  groups  of 
forms  so  far  distinct  from  each  other,  that,  if  fossilized,  geo- 
logists would  scarcely  be  disposed  to  refer  them  all  to  the 
same  period.  Of  Faunas,  the  Arctic  difiers  from  the  Tem- 
perate ;  the  Temperate  from  the  Tropical ;  and  the  South 
Temperate  from  the  North  Temperate.  Nay,  in  the  South 
Temperate  Zone  itself,  the  two  regions  of  South  Africa  and 
South  America  are  unlike  in  their  mammals,  birds,  reptiles, 
fishes,  mollusks,  insects.  The  shells  and  bones  now  lying  at 
the  bottoms  of  lakes  and  estuaries  in  these  several  regions, 
have  certainly  not  that  similarity  which  is  asually  looked 
15 


338  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

for  in  those  of  contemporaneous  strata ;  and  the  recent 
forms  exhumed  in  any  one  of  these  regions  would  very  un- 
truly represent  the  present  Flora  and  Fauna  of  the  Earth. 
In  conformity  with  the  current  style  of  geological  reason- 
ing, an  exhaustive  examination  of  deposits  in  the  Arctic  cir- 
cle, might  be  held  to  prove  that  though  at  this  period 
there  were  sundry  mammals  existing,  there  were  no  reptiles ; 
while  the  absence  of  mammals  in  the  deposits  of  the  Gala- 
pagos Archipelago,  where  there  are  plenty  of  reptiles,  might 
be  held  to  prove  the  reverse.  And  at  the  same  time,  from 
the  formations  extending  for  two  thousand  miles  along  the 
great  barrier-reef  of  Australia — formations  in  which  are 
imbedded  nothing  but  corals,  echinoderms,  mollusks,  crus- 
taceans, and  fish,  along  with  an  occasional  turtle,  or  bird, 
or  cetacean,  it  might  be  inferred  that  there  lived  in  our 
epoch  neither  terrestrial  reptiles  nor  terrestrial  mammals. 

The  mention  of  Australia,  indeed,  suggests  an  illustra- 
tion which,  even  alone,  would  amply  prove  our  case.  The 
Fauna  of  this  region  differs  widely  from  any  that  is  found 
elsewhere.  On  land  all  the  indigenous  mammals,  except 
bats,  belong  to  the  lowest,  or  implacental  division  ;  and  the 
insects  are  singularly  different  from  those  found  elsewhere. 
The  surrounding  seas  contain  numerous  forms  that  are  more 
or  less  strange  ;  and  among  the  fish  there  exists  a  species 
of  shark,  which  is  the  only  hving  representative  of  a  genus 
that  flourished  in  early  geologic  epochs.  If,  now,  the  mod- 
ern fossiliferous  deposits  of  Australia  were  to  be  examined 
by  one  ignorant  of  the  existing  Australian  Fauna ;  and  if  he 
were  to  reason  in  the  usual  manner  ;  he  would  be  very  un- 
likely to  class  these  deposits  with  those  of  the  present  time. 
How,  then,  can  we  place  confidence  in  the  tacit  assumption 
that  certain  formations  in  remote  parts  of  the  Earth  are 
referable  to  the  same  period,  because  the  organic  remains 
contained  in  them  display  a  certain  community  of  charac- 
ter ?  or  that  certain  others  are  referable  to  different  periods, 
because  the  fades  of  their  Faunas  are  different  ? 


REASONING   IN   A   CIRCLE.  339 

"But,"  it  will  be  replied,  "in  past  eras  the  same,  or 
similar,  organic  forms  were  more  widely  distributed  than 
now."  It  may  be  so  ;  but  the  evidence  adduced  by  no 
means  proves  it.  The  argument  by  which  this  conclusion 
is  reached,  runs  a  risk  of  being  quoted  as  an  example  of 
reasoning  in  a  circle.  As  already  pointed  out,  between 
formations  in  remote  regions  there  is  no  means  of  ascertain* 
ing  equivalence  but  by  fossils.  If,  then,  the  contempora- 
neity of  remote  formations  is  concluded  from  the  likeness 
of  their  fossils  ;  how  can  it  be  said  that  similar  plants  and 
animals  were  once  more  widely  distributed,  because  they 
are  found  in  contemporaneous  strata  in  remote  regions  ? 
Is  not  the  fallacy  manifest  ?  Even  supposing  there  were 
no  such  fatal  objection  as  this,  the  evidence  commonly  as- 
signed would  still  be  insufficient.  For  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  community  of  organic  remains  commonly 
thought  sufficient  for  inferring  correspondence  in  time,  is  a 
very  imperfect  community.  When  the  compared  sedimen- 
tary beds  are  far  apart,  it  is  scarcely  expected  that  there 
will  be  many  species  common  to  the  two :  it  is  enough  if 
there  be  discovered  a  considerable  number  of  common  gen- 
era. Now  had  it  been  proved  that,  throughout  geologic 
time,  each  genus  lived  but  for  a  short  period — a  period 
measured  by  a  single  group  of  strata — something  might  be 
inferred.  But  what  if  we  learn  that  many  of  the  same 
genera  continued  to  exist  throughout  enormous  epochs, 
measured  by  several  vast  systems  of  strata  ?  "  Among 
molluscs,  the  genera  Avicida,  Modiola,  Terebratida,  Ijin- 
gula^  and  Orhicula^  are  found  from  the  Silurian  rocks  up- 
wards to  the  present  day."  If,  then,  between  the  lowest 
fossiliferous  formations  and  the  most  recent,  there  exists 
this  degree  of  community ;  must  we  not  infer  that  there 
will  probably  often  exist  a  degree  of  community  between 
■trata  that  are  far  from  contemporaneous  ? 

Thus  the   reason  in  2:  from  Avhich  it  is  concluded  that 


340  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

similar  organic  forms  were  once  more  widely  spread,  ia 
doubly  fallacious  ;  and,  consequently,  the  classifications  of 
foreign  strata  based  on  this  conclusion  are  untrustworthy. 
Judging  from  the  present  distribution  of  life,  we  can 
scarcely  expect  to  find  similar  remains  in  geographically 
remote  strata  of  the  same  age ;  and  where,  between  the 
fossils  of  geographically  remote  strata,  we  do  find  much 
similarity,  it  is  probably  often  due  rather  to  likeness  of  con- 
ditions than  to  contemporaneity.  If  from  causes  and  ef- 
fects such  as  we  now  witness,  we  reason  back  to  the  causes 
and  efiects  of  past  epochs,  we  discover  inadequate  warrant 
for  sundry  of  the  received  doctrines.  Seeing,  as  we  do, 
that  in  large  areas  of  the  Pacific  this  is  a  period  character- 
ized by  abundance  of  corals ;  that  in  the  North  Atlantic  it 
is  a  period  in  which  a  great  chalk-deposit  is  being  formed  ; 
and  that  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  it  is  a  period  of 
new  coal-basins — seeing  also,  as  we  do,  that  in  one  exten- 
sive continent  this  is  peculiarly  an  era  of  implacental  mam- 
mals, and  that  in  another  extensive  continent  it  is  peculiarly 
an  era  of  placental  mammals  ;  we  have  good  reason  to  hes- 
itate before  accejDting  these  sweeping  generalizations  which 
are  based  on  a  cursory  examination  of  strata  occupying  but 
a  tenth  part  of  the  Earth's  surface. 

At  the  outset,  this  article  was  to  have  been  a  review  of 
the  works  of  Hugh  Miller ;  but  it  has  grown  into  some- 
thing much  more  general.  Nevertheless,  the  remaining 
two  doctrines  which  we  propose  to  criticise,  may  be  con- 
veniently treated  in  connection  with  his  name,  as  that  of 
one  who  fully  committed  himself  to  them.  And  first,  a  few 
words  with  regard  to  his  position. 

That  he  was  a  man  whose  life  was  one  of  meritorious 
achievement,  every  one  knows.  That  he  was  a  diligent  and 
Buccessful  working  geologist,  scarcely  needs  saying.  That 
with  indomitable  perseverance  he  struggled  up  from  ob 


HUGH  MILLEE   AS   A   GEOLOGIST.  341 

Bcurity  to  a  place  in  the  world  of  literature  and  science, 
shows  him  to  have  been  highly  endowed  in  character  and 
intelligence.  And  that  he  had  a  remarkable  power  of  pre- 
senting his  facts  and  arguments  in  an  attractive  form,  a 
glance  at  any  of  his  books  will  quickly  prove.  By  all 
means,  let  us  respect  him  as  a  man  of  activity  and  sagacity, 
joined  with  a  large  amount  of  poetry.  But  while  saying 
this  we  must  add,  that  his  reputation  stands  by  no  means 
so  high  in  the  scientific  world  as  in  the  world  at  large. 
Partly  from  the  fact  that  our  Scotch  neighbours  are  in  the 
habit  of  blowing  the  trumpet  rather  loudly  before  their 
notabilities — partly  because  the  charming  style  in  which  his 
books  are  written  has  gained  him  a  large  circle  of  readers 
■ — partly,  perhaps,  through  a  praiseworthy  sympathy  with 
him  as  a  self-made  man ;  Hugh  Miller  has  met  with  an 
amount  of  aj^plause  which,  little  as  we  wish  to  diminish  it, 
must  not  be  allowed  to  blind  the  public  to  his  defects  as  a 
man  of  science. 

The  truth  is,  he  was  so  far  committed  to  a  foregone 
conclusion,  that  he  could  not  become  a  philosophical  geolo- 
gist. He  might  be  aptly  described  as  a  theologian  study- 
ing geology.  vThe  dominant  idea  with  which  he  wrote, 
may  be  seen  in  the  titles  of  his  books — Law  versus  Miracle^ 
— Footiwints  of  the  Creator^ — The  Testimony  of  the 
HocJcs.  Regarding  geological  facts  as  evidence  for  or 
against  certain  religious  conclusions,  it  was  scarcely  possi- 
ble for  him  to  deal  with  geological  facts  impartially.  His 
ruling  aim  wms  to  disprove  the  Development  Hypothesis, 
the  assumed  implications  of  which  were  repugnant  to  him ; 
and  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  his  feeling,  was  the 
one-sidedness  of  his  reasoning.  He  admitted  that  "  God 
might  as  certainly  have  originated  the  species  by  a  law  of 
development,  as  he  mmntains  it  by  a  law  of  development  \ 
the  existence  of  a  First  Great  Cause  is  as  perfectly  compat- 
i)le  with  the  one  scheme  as  with  the  other."     Neverthe* 


34:2  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

less,  he  considered  the  hypothesis  at  variance  with  Chria 
tianity;  and  therefore  combated  with  it.  He  apparently 
overlooked  the  fact  tliat  the  doctrines  of  geology  in  gen- 
eral, as  held  by  himself,  had  been  rejected  by  many  on  sim- 
ilar grounds ;  and  that  he  had  himself  been  repeatedly  at- 
tacked for  his  anti-Christian  teachings.  He  seems  not  to 
have  perceived  that,  just  as  his  antagonists  were  wrong  in 
condemning  as  irreligious,  theories  which  he  saw  were  not 
irreligious ;  so  might  he  be  wrong  in  condemning,  on  like 
grounds,  the  Theory  of  Evolution.  In  brief,  he  fell  short 
of  that  highest  faith,  which  knows  that  all  truths  must  har- 
monize ;  and  which  is,  therefore,  content  trustfully  to  fol- 
low the  evidence  whithersoever  it  leads. 

Of  course  it  is  impossible  to  criticize  his  works  without 
entering  on  this  great  question  to  which  he  chiefly  devoted 
himself.  The  two  remaining  doctrines  to  be  here  discussed, 
bear  directly  on  this  question  ;  and,  as  above  said,  we  pro- 
pose to  treat  them  in  connection  with  Hugh  Miller's  name, 
because,  throughout  his  reasonings,  he  assumes  their  truth. 
Let  it  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  we  shall  aim  to  prove 
what  he  has  aimed  to  disprove.  While  we  purpose  show- 
ing that  his  arguments  against  the  Development  Hypothe- 
sis are  based  on  invalid  assumptions ;  we  do  not  purpose 
showing  that  the  opposing  arguments  are  based  on  valid 
assumptions.  We  hope  to  make  it  apparent  that  the  geo- 
logical evidence  at  present  obtained,  is  insufiicient  for  either 
side ;  further,  that  there  seems  little  probability  of  sufficient 
evidence  ever  being  obtained ;  and  that  if  the  question  is 
eventually  decided,  it  must  be  decided  on  other  than  geo- 
logical data. 

The  first  of  the  current  doctrines  to  which  we  have  just 
referred,  is,  that  there  occur  in  the  records  of  former  life 
on  our  planet,  certain  great  blanks — that  though,  generally, 
the  succession  of  fossil  forms  is  tolerably  continuous,  yet 


BREAKS  IN  THE  COUESE  OF  TERRESTRIAL  LIFE.   343 

ihat  at  two  places  there  occur  wide  gaps  in  the  series 
whence  it  is  inferred  that,  on  at  least  two  occasions,  the 
previously  existing  inhabitants  of  the  Earth  were  almost 
wholly  destroyed,  and  a  different  class  of  inhabitants  cre- 
ated. Comparing  the  general  life  on -the  Earth  to  a  thread, 
Hugh  Miller  says  : — 

''  It  is  contiiiuous  from  the  present  time  up  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Tertiary  period;  and  then  so  abrupt  a  break  occurs, 
that,  with  the  exception  of  the  microscopic  diatomaceaa  to  which 
I  last  evening  referred,  and  of  one  shell  and  one  coral,  not  a  sin- 
gle species  crossed  the  gap.  On  its  further  or  remoter  side,  how- 
ever, where  the  Secondary  division  closes,  the  intermingling  of 
species  again  begins,  and  runs  on  till  the  commencement  of  this 
great  Secondary  division;  and  then,  just  where  the  Palseozoic  di- 
vision closes,  we  find  another  abrupt  break,  crossed,  if  crossed  at 
all, — for  there  still  exists  some  doubt  on  the  subject, — by  but  two 
species  of  plant." 

These  breaks  are  considered  to  imply  actual  new  crea- 
tions on  the  surface  of  our  planet ;  not  only  by  Hugh  Mil- 
ler, but  by  the  majority  of  geologists.  And  the  terms 
Palaeozoic,  Mesozoic,  and  Cainozoic,  are  used  to  indicate 
these  three  successive  systems  of  life.  It  is  true  that  some 
accept  this  belief  with  caution :  knowing  how  geologic 
research  has  been  all  along  tending  to  fill  up  what  were 
once  thought  wide  breaks.  Sir  Charles  Lyell  points  out 
that  "  the  hiatus  which  exists  in  Great  Britain  between  the 
fossils  of  the  Lias  and  those  of  the  Magnesian  Limestone, 
is  supplied  in  Germany  by  the  rich  fauna  and  flora  of  the 
Muschelkalk,  Keuper,  and  Bunter  Sandstein,  which  we 
know  to  be  of  a  date  precisely  intermediate."  Again  he 
remarks  that  "  until  lately  the  fossils  of  the  coal-measures 
were  separated  from  those  of  the  antecedent  Silurian  group 
by  a  very  abrupt  and  decided  line  of  demarcation ;  but 
recent  discoveries  have  brought  to  light  in  Devonshire, 
Belgium,  the  Eifel,  and  Westphaha,  the  remains  of  a  fauna 


oli  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

of  an  intervening  period."  And  once  more,  "  we  have  also 
in  like  manner  had  some  success  of  late  years  in  dimiiiish- 
irjg  the  hiatus  which  still  separates  the  Cretaceous  and 
Eocene  periods  in  Europe."  To  which  let  us  add  that 
since  Hugh  Miller  penned  the  passage  above  quoted,  the 
second  of  the  great  gaps  he  refers  to  has  been  very  consid- 
erably narrowed  by  the  discovery  of  strata  containing  Pa- 
laeozoic genera  and  Mesozoic  genera  intermingled.  Never- 
theless, the  occurrence  of  two  great  revolutions  in  the 
Earth's  Flora  and  Fauna  aj^pears  still  to  be  held  by  many ; 
and  geologic  nomenclature  habitually  assumes  it. 

Before  seeking  a  solution  of  these  j^henomena,  let  us 
glance  at  the  several  minor  causes  that  produce  breaks  in 
the  geological  succession  of  organic  forms :  taking  first, 
the  more  general  ones  which  modify  climate,  and,  there- 
fore, the  distribution  of  life.  Among  these  may  be  noted 
one  which  has  not,  we  believe,  been  named  by  writers  on 
the  subject.  We  mean  that  resulting  from  a  certain  slow 
astronomic  rhythm,  by  which  the  northern  and  southern 
hemispheres  are  alternately  subject  to  greater  extremes  of 
temperature.  In  consequence  of  the  slight  ellipticity  of  its 
orbit,  the  Earth's  distance  from  the  sun  varies  to  the  extent 
of  some  3,000,000  of  miles.  At  present,  the  aphehon  oc- 
curs at  the  time  of  our  northern  summer  ;  and  the  perihe- 
lion during  the  summer  of  the  southern  hemisphere.  In 
consequence,  however,  of  that  slow  movement  of  the 
Earth's  axis  which  produces  the  precession  of  the  equinox- 
es, this  state  of  things  will  in  time  be  reversed  :  the  Earth 
will  be  nearest  to  the  sun  during  the  summer  of  the  north- 
ern hemisphere,  and  furthest  from  it  during  the  southern 
summer  or  northern  winter.  The  period  required  to  com- 
plete the  slow  movement  producing  these  changes,  is  nearly 
26,000  years ;  and  were  there  no  modifying  process,  the 
two  hemispheres  would  alternately  experience  this  coinci- 
dence of  summer  with  the  least  distance  from  the  sun,  dur 


ASTKONOMTC   CAUSES   OF   CLIMATIC   CHANGES.  345 

mg  a  period  of  13,000  years.  But  there  is  also  a  still 
slower  change  in  the  direction  of  the  axis  major  of  the 
Earth's  orbit ;  from  which  it  results  that  the  alternation  we 
have  described  is  completed  in  about  21,000  years.  That 
is  to  say,  if  at  a  given  time  the  Earth  is  nearest  to  the  sun 
at  our  mid-summer,  and  furthest  from  the  sun  at  our  mid- 
winter :  then,  in  10,500  years  afterwards,  it  will  be  furthest 
fi'ora  the  sun  at  our  mid-summer,  and  nearest  at  our  mid- 
winter. 

Now  the  difference  between  the  distances  from  the  sun 
at  the  two  extremes  of  this  alternation,  amounts  to  one- 
thirtieth  ;  and  hence,  the  difference  between  the  quantities 
of  heat  received  from  the  sun  on  a  summer's  day  under 
these  opposite  conditions  amounts  to  one-fifteenth.  Esti- 
mating this,  not  with  reference  to  the  zero  of  our  thermome- 
ters, but  with  reference  to  the  temperature  of  the  celestial 
spaces,  Sir  John  Herschel  calculates  "23°  Fahrenheit  as 
the  least  variation  of  temperature  under  such  circumstances 
which  can  reasonably  be  attributed  to  the  actual  variation 
of  the  sun's  distance."  Thus,  then,  each  hemisphere  has 
at  a  certain  epoch,  a  short  summer  of  extreme  heat,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  and  very  cold  winter.  Through  the  slow 
change  in  the  direction  of  the  Earth's  axis,  these  extremes 
are  gradually  mitigated.  And  at  the  end  of  10,500  years, 
there  is  reached  the  opposite  state — a  long  and  moderate 
summer,  with  a  short  and  mild  winter.  At  present,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  predominance  of  sea  in  the  southern  hem- 
isphere, the  extremes  to  which  its  astronomical  conditions 
subject  it,  are  much  ameliorated ;  while  the  great  propor- 
tion of  land  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  tends  to  exagge- 
rate such  contrast  as  now  exists  in  it  between  winter  and 
Bummer :  whence  it  results  that  the  climates  of  the  two 
hemispheres  are  not  widely  unlike.  But  10,000  years  hence, 
the  northern  hemisphere  will  undergo  annual  variations  of 
temperature  far  more  marked  than  now. 


34:6  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

In  the  last  edition  of  his  Outlines  of  Astro7io'my,  Sii 
John  Herschel  recognizes  this  as  an  element  in  geological 
processes :  regarding  it  as  possibly  a  part-cause  of  those 
climatic  changes  indicated  by  the  records  of  the  Earth's 
past.  That  it  has  had  much  to  do  with  the  larger  changes 
of  climate  of  which  we  have  evidence,  seems  unlikely,  since 
there  is  reason  to  think  that  these  have  been  far  slower  and 
more  lasting ;  but  that  it  must  have  entailed  a  rhythmical 
exaggeration  and  mitigation  of  the  climates  otherwise  pro- 
duced, seems  beyond  question.  And  it  seems  also  beyond 
question  that  there  must  have  been  a  consequent  rhythmi- 
cal change  in  the  distribution  of  organisms — a  rhythmical 
change  to  which  we  here  wish  to  draw  attention,  as  one 
cause  of  minor  breaks  in  the  succession  of  fossil  remains. 
Each  species  of  plant  and  animal,  has  certain  limits  of  heat 
and  cold  within  which  only  it  can  exist ;  and  these  limits 
in  a  great  degree  determine  its  geographical  position.  It 
will  not  spread  north  of  a  certain  latitude,  because  it  can- 
not bear  a  more  northern  winter,  nor  south  of  a  certain 
latitude,  because  the  summer  heat  is  too  great ;  or  else  it 
is  indirectly  restrained  from  spreading  further  by  the  effect 
of  temperature  on  the  humidity  of  the  air,  or  on  the  distri- 
bution of  the  organisms  it  lives  upon. 

But  now,  what  will  result  from  a  slow  alteration  of  cli- 
mate, produced  as  above  described  ?  Supposing  the  pe- 
riod we  set  out  from  is  that  in  which  the  contrast  of  seasons 
is  least  marked,  it  is  manifest  that  during  the  progress  to- 
wards the  period  of  the  most  violent  contrast,  each  species 
of  plant  and  animal  will  gradually  ^abange  its  limits  of  dis- 
tribution— will  be  driven  back,  here  by  the  winter's  increas- 
ing cold,  and  there  by  the  summer's  increasing  heat — will 
retire  into  those  localities  that  are  still  fit  for  it.  Thus  dur- 
ing 10,000  years,  each  species  will  ebb  away  from  certain 
regions  it  was  inhabiting;  and  during  the  succeeding 
10,000  years  will  flow  back  into  those  regions.      From  the 


strata  there  forming,  its  remains  will  disappear;  they  will 
be  absent  from  some  of  the  supposed  strata ;  and  will  be 
found  in  strata  higher  up.  But  in  whafr  shapes  will  they 
re-appear?  Exposed  during  the  21,000  years  of  their  slow 
recession  and  their  slow  return,  to  changing  conditions  of 
life,  they  are  likely  to  have  undergone  modifications  ;  and 
will  probably  re-apipear  with  slight  differences  of  constitu- 
tion and  perhaps  of  form — will  be  new  varieties  or  perhaps 
new  sub-species. 

To  this  cause  of  minor  breaks  in  the  succession  of  or- 
ganic forms — a  cause  on  which  we  have  dwelt  because  it 
has  not  been  taken  into  account — we  must  add  sundry  oth- 
ers. Besides  these  periodically-recurring  alterations  of 
climate,  there  are  the  irregular  ones  produced  by  re-distri- 
butions of  land  and  sea ;  and  these,  sometimes  less,  some- 
times greater,  in  degree,  than  the  rhythmical  changes,  must, 
like  them,  cause  in  each  region  the  ebb  and  flow  of  species ; 
and  consequent  breaks,  small  or  large  as  the  case  may  be, 
in  the  palseontological  series.  Other  and  more  special  geo- 
logical changes  must  produce  other  and  more  local  blanks 
in  the  succession  of  fossils.  By  some  inland  elevation  the 
natural  drainage  of  a  continent  is  modified ;  and  instead 
of  the  sediment  it  previously  brought  down  to  the  sea,  a 
great  river  begins  to  bring  down  sediment  unfavourable  to 
various  plants  and  animals  living  in  its  delta :  wherefore 
these  disappear  from  the  locality,  perhaps  to  re-appear  in  a 
changed  form  after  a  long  epoch.  Upheavals  or  subsiden- 
ces of  shores  or  sea-bottoms,  involving  deviations  of  marine 
currents,  must  remove  the  habitats  of  many  species  to 
which  such  currents  are  salutary  or  injurious ;  and  further, 
this  re-distribution  of  currents  must  alter  the  places  of  sed- 
imentary deposits,  and  so  stop  the  burying  of  organic  re« 
mains  in  some  localities,  and  commence  it  in  others.  Had 
we  space,  many  more  such  causes  of  blanks  in  our  paljeon- 
tological  records  might  be  added.     But  it  is  needless  here 


348  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

to  enumerate  them.     They  are  admirably  explained  and  11 
lustrated  in  Sir  Charles  Lyell's  Principles  of  Geology. 

Now,  if  these  minor  rev^oliitions  of  the  Earth's  surface 
produce  minor  breaks  in  the  series  of  fossilized  remains ; 
must  not  great  revolutions  produce  great  breaks  ?  If  a  lo- 
cal upheaval  or  subsidence  causes  throughout  its  small  area 
the  absence  of  some  links  in  the  chain  of.  fossil  forms ;  does 
it  not  follow  that  an  upheaval  or  subsidence  extending  over 
a  large  part  of  the  Earth's  surface,  must  cause  the  absence 
of  a  great  number  of  such  links  throughout  a  very  wide 
area  ? 

When  during  a  long  epoch  a  continent,  slowly  subsiding, 
gives  place  to  a  far-spreading  ocean  some  miles  in  depth,  at 
the  bottom  of  w^hich  no  deposits  from  rivers  or  abraded 
shores  can  be  thrown  down ;  and  when,  after  some  enor- 
mous period,  this  ocean-bottom  is  gradually  elevated  and 
becomes  the  site  of  new  strata  ;  it  is  clear  that  the  fossils 
contained  in  these  new  strata  are  likely  to  have  but  little 
in  common  wdth  the  fossils  of  the  strata  below  them.  Take, 
in  illustration,  the  case  of  the  North  Atlantic.  We  have 
already  named  the  fact  that  between  this  country  and  the 
United  States,  the  ocean-bottom  is  being  covered  with  a 
deposit  of  chalk — a  deposit  that  has  been  forming,  proba- 
bly, ever  since  there  occurred  that  great  depression  of  the 
Earth's  crust  from  which  the  Atlantic  resulted  in  remote 
geologic  times.  This  chalk,  consists  of  the  minute  shells  of 
Foraminifera,  sprinkled  with  remains  of  small  Entomostra- 
ca,  and  probably  a  few  Pteropod-shells :  though  the  sound- 
ing lines  have  not  yet  brought  up  any  of  these  last.  Thus, 
in  so  far  as  all  high  forms  of  hfe  are  concerned,  this  new 
chalk-formation  must  be  a  blank.  At  rare  intervals,  per- 
haps, a  polar  bear  drifted  on  an  iceberg,  may  have  its  bones 
scattered  over  the  bed ;  or  a  dead,  decaying  w  hale  may 
Bimilarly  leave  traces.  But  such  remains  must  be  so  rare, 
that  this  new  chalk-formation,  if  visible,  might  be  examined 


GAPS    CONSISTENT   WITH   CONTINUOUS    LIFE.  349 

for  a  century  before  any  of  them  were  disclosed.  If  now, 
some  millions  of  years  hence,  the  Atlantic-bed  should  be 
raised,  and  estuary  or  shore  deposits  laid  upon  it,  these  de- 
posits would  contain  remains  of  a  Flora  and  Fauna  so  dis- 
tinct from  everything  below  them,  as  to  appear  like  a  new 
creation. 

Thus,  along  with  continuity  of  life  on  the  Earth's  sur- 
face, there  not  only  may  be,  but  there  must  be,  great  gaps, 
in  the  series  of  fossils ;  and  hence  these  gaps  are  no  evi- 
dence against  the  doctrine  of  Evolution. 

One  other  current  assumption  remains  to  be  criticized  ; 
and  it  is  the  one  on  which,  more  than  on  any  other,  de- 
pends the  view  taken  respecting  the  question  of  develop- 
ment. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  controversy,  the  arguments 
for  and  against  have  turned  upon  the  evidence  of  progres- 
sion in  organic  forms,  found  in  the  ascending  series  of  our 
sedimentary  formations.  On  the  one  hand,  those  who  con- 
tend that  higher  organisms  have  been  evolved  out  of  low- 
er, joined  with  those  who  contend  that  successively  higher 
organisms  have  been  created  at  successively  later  periods, 
appeal  for  proof  to  the  facts  of  Palaeontology  ;  which,  they 
say,  countenance  their  views.  On  the  other  hand,  theUni- 
formitarians,  who  not  only  reject  the  hypothesis  of  devel- 
opment, but  deny  that  the  modern  forms  of  life  are  higher 
than  the  ancient  ones,  reply  that  the  Palgeontological  evi- 
dence is  at  present  very  incomplete  ;  that  though  we  have 
not  yet  found  remains  of  highly-organized  creatures  in 
strata  of  the  greatest  antiquity,  we  must  not  assume  that 
no  such  creatures  existed  when  those  strata  were  deposited  ; 
a<id  that,  probably,  geological  research  will  eventually  dis- 
close them. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  thus  far,  the  evidence  has 
gone  in  favour  of  the  latter  party.     Geological  discovery 


350  ILLOGICAL    GEOLOGY. 

has  year  after  year  shown  the  small  value  of  negative  facts. 
The  conviction  that  there  are  no  traces  of  higher  organisms 
in  earlier  strata,  has  resulted  not  from  the  absence  of  such 
remains,  but  from  incomplete  examination.  At  p.  460  of 
his  Manual  of  Elementary  Geology,  Sir  Charles  J.jcW 
gives  a  list  in  illustration  of  this.  It  appears  that  in  1709, 
fishes  were  not  known  lower  than  the  Permian  system.  In' 
1793  they  were  found  in  the  subjacent  Carboniferous  sys- 
tem ;  in  1828  in  the  Devonian ;  in  1840  in  the  Upper  Silu- 
rian. Of  reptiles,  we  read  that  in  1710  the  lowest  known 
were  in  the  Permian;  in  1844  they  were  detected  in  the 
Carboniferous;  and  in  1852  in  the  Upper  Devonian. 
While  of  the  Mammalia  the  list  shows  that  in  1798  none 
had  been  discovered  below  the  middle  Eocene;  but  that  in 
1818  they  were  discovered  in  the  Lower  Oolite;  and  in 
1847  in  the  Upper  Trias. 

The  fact  is,  however,  that  both  parties  set  out  with  an 
inadmissible  postulate.  Of  the  Uniformitarians,  not  only 
such  writers  as  Hugh  Miller,  but  also  such  as  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,*  reason  as  though  we  had  found  the  earliest,  or  some- 
thing like  the  earliest,  strata.  Their  antagonists,  whether 
def-^nders  of  the  Development  Hypothesis  or  simply  Pro- 
gressionists, almost  uniformly  do  the  like.  Sir  R.  Murchi- 
son,  who  is  a  Progressionist,  calls  the  lowest  fossiliferous 
strata,  "  Protozoic."  Prof.  Ansted  uses  the  same  term. 
Whether  avowedly  or  not,  all  the  disputants  stand  on  this 
assumption  as  their  common  ground. 

Yet  is  this  assumj^tion  indefensible,  as  some  who  make 
t  very  well  know.  Facts  may  be  cited  against  it  which 
show  that  it  is  a  more  than  questionable  one— that  it  is  a 
highly  improbable  one  ;  while  the  evidence  assigned  in  its 
favour  will  not  bear  criticism. 

*  Sir  Charles  LjeU  is  no  longer  to  be  classed  among  Uniformitarians. 
With  rare  and  admirable  candour  he  has,  since  this  was  written,  yielded 
to  the  arguments  of  Mr.  Darwin. 


CAN    WE   FIND   THE   BEGINNING   OF   LIFE?  351 

Because  in  Bohemia,  Great  Britain,  and  portions  of 
North  America,  the  lowest  unmetamorphosed  strata  yet 
discovered,  contain  but  slight  traces  of  life.  Sir  R.  Murchi- 
son  conceives  that  they  were  formed  while  yet  few,  if  any, 
plants  or  animals  had  been  created  ;  and,  therefore,  classes 
them  as  "  Azoic."  His  own  pages,  however,  show  the 
illegitimacy  of  the  conclusion  that  there  existed  at  that 
period  no  considerable  amount  of  life.  Such  traces  of  life 
as  have  been  found  in  the  Longmynd  rocks,  for  many  years 
considered  unfossiliferous,  have  been  found  in  some  of  the 
lowest  beds ;  and  the  twenty  thousand  feet  of  superposed 
beds,  still  yield  no  organic  remains.  If  now  these  super- 
posed strata  throughout  a  depth  of  four  miles,  are  without 
fossils,  though  the  strata  over  which  they  lie  prove  that 
life  had  commenced  ;  what  becomes  of  Sir  R.  Murchison's 
inference  ?  At  page  189  of  Siluria^  a  still  more  conclusive 
fact  will  be  found.  The  "  Glengariff  grits,"  and  other 
accompanying  strata  there  described  as  13,500  feet  thick, 
contain  no  signs  of  contemporaneous  life.  Yet  Sir  R.  Mur- 
chison  refers  them  to  the  Devonian  period — a  period  that 
had  a  large  and  varied  marine  Fauna.  How  then,  from 
the  absence  of  fossils  in  the  Longmynd  beds  and  their 
equivalents,  can  we  conclude  that  the  Earth  was  "  azoic  " 
when  they  were  formed  ? 

"But,"  it  may  be  asked,  "if  living  creatures  then  exist 
ed,  why  do  we  not  find  fossiliferous  strata  of  that  age,  or 
an  earlier  age  ?  "  One  reply  is,  that  the  non-existence  of 
such  strata  is  but  a  negative  fact — we  have  not  found  them. 
And  considering  how  little  we  know  even  of  the  two-fifths 
of  the  Earth's  surface  now  above  the  sea,  and  how  absolute- 
ly ignorant  we  are  of  the  three-fifths  below  the  sea,  it  is 
rash  to  say  that  no  such  strata  exist.  But  the  chief  reply 
IS,  that  these  records  of  the  Earth's  earlier  history  have 
been  in  great  part  destroyed,  by  agencies  that  are  ever 
tending  to  destroy  such  records. 


352  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

It  is  an  established  geological  doctrine,  that  sedimentary 
strata  are  liable  to  be  changed,  more  or  less  completely, 
by  igneous  action.  The  rocks  originally  classed  as  "transi« 
tion,"  because  they  were  intermediate  in  character  between 
the  igneous  rocks  found  below  them,  and  the  sedimentary 
strata  found  above  them,  are  now  known  to  be  nothing  else 
than  sedimentary  strata  altered  in  texture  and  appearance 
by  the  intense  heat  of  adjacent  molten  matter ;  and  hence 
are  renamed  "  metamorphic  rocks."  Modern  researches 
have  shown,  too,  that  these  metamorphic  rocks  are  not,  as 
was  once  supposed,  all  of  the  same  age.  Besides  primary 
and  secondary  strata  that  have  been  transformed  by  igneous 
action,  there  are  similarly-changed  deposits  of  tertiary  ori- 
gin ;  and  that,  even  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  point 
of  contact  with  neighbouring  granite.  By  this  process 
fossils  are  of  course  destroyed.  "  In  some  cases,"  says  Sir 
Charles  Lyell,  "  dark  limestones,  replete  with  shells  and 
corals,  have  been  turned  into  white  statuary  marble,  and 
hard  clays,  containing  vegetable  or  other  remains,  into 
slates  called  mica-schist  or  hornblende-schist ;  every  vestige 
of  the  organic  bodies  having  been  obliterated." 

Again,  it  is  fast  becoming  an  acknowledged  truth,  that 
igneous  rock,  of  whatever  kind,  is  the  product  of  sedimen- 
tary strata  that  have  been  completely  melted.  Granite 
and  gneiss,  which  are  of  like  chemical  composition,  have 
been  shown,  in  various  cases,  to  pass  one  into  the  other ;  as 
at  Yalorsine,  near  Mont  Blanc,  where  the  two,  in  contact, 
are  observed  to  "  both  undergo  a  modification  of  mineral 
character.  The  granite  still  remaining  unstratified,  be- 
comes charged  with  green  particles ;  and  the  talcose  gneiss 
assumes  a  granitiform  structure  without  losing  its  stratifi- 
cation." In  the  Aberdeen-granite,  lumps  of  unmelted 
gneiss  are  frequently  found ;  and  we  can  ourselves  bear 
witness  that  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Sunart,  there  is  ample 
proof  that  the  granite  of  that  region,  when  it  was  mol- 


THE    EARLIEST   STRATA   MELTED    VF.  353 

I/en,  contained  incompletely-fused  clots  of  sedimentary 
strata.  Nor  is  this  all.  Fifty  years  ago,  it  was  thought 
that  all  granitic  rocks  were  primitive,  or  existed  before 
any  sedimentary  strata ;  but  it  is  now  "  no  easy  task  to 
point  out  a  single  mass  of  granite  demonstrably  more  an- 
cient than  all  the  known  fossiliferous  deposits." 

In  brief,  accumulated  evidence  clearly  shows,  that  by 
contact  with,  or  j^roximity  to,  the  molten  matter  of  the 
Earth's  nucleus,  all  beds  of  sediment  are  hable  to  be 
actually  melted,  or  partially  fused,  or  so  heated  as  to 
agglutinate  their  particles ;  and  that  according  to  the  tem- 
perature they  have  been  raised  to,  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  cool,  they  assume  the  forms  of  granite, 
porphyry,  trap,  gneiss,  or  rock  otherwise  altered.  Further, 
it  is  manifest  that  thous^h  strata  of  various  as^es  have  been 
thus  changed,  yet  that  the  most  ancient  strata  have  been 
so  changed  to  the  greatest  extent :  both  because  they 
have  habitually  lain  nearer  to  the  centre  of  igneous  agency; 
and  because  they  have  been  for  a  longer  period  liable  to 
the  effects  of  this  agency.  Whence  it  follows,  that  sedi- 
mentary strata  passing  a  certain  antiquity,  are  unlikely  to 
be  found  in  an  unmetamorphosed  state ;  and  that  strata 
much  earlier  than  those  are  certain  to  have  been  melted 
up.  Thus  if,  throughout  a  past  of  indefinite  duration, 
there  had  been  at  work  those  aqueous  and  igneous  agen- 
cies which  we  see  still  at  w^ork,  the  state  of  the  Earth's 
crust  might  be  just  what  w^e  find  it.  We  have  no  evidence 
w^hich  puts  a  limit  to  the  period  throughout  w^hicb  this  for- 
mation and  destruction  of  strata  has  been  going  on.  For 
aught  the  facts  prove,  it  may  have  been  going  on  for  ten 
times  the  period  measured  by  our  whole  series  of  sedimen- 
tary deposits. 

Besides  having,  in  the  present  appearances  of  the 
Earth's  crust,  no  data  for  fixing  a  commencement  to  theso 
processes — besides  finding  that  the  evidence  permits  us  to 


354  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

assume  such  commencement  to  have  been  inconceivably 
remote,  as  compared  even  with  the  vast  eras  of  geology  ; 
we  are  not  without  positive  grounds  for  inferring  the  in- 
conceivable remoteness  of  such  commencement.  Modern 
geology  has  established  truths  which  are  irreconcilable 
with  the  belief  that  the  formation  and  destruction  of  strata 
began  when  the  Cambrian  rocks  were  formed ;  or  at  any- 
thing like  so  recent  a  time.  One  fact  from  Siluria  will 
suffice.  Sir  R.  Murchison  estimates  the  vertical  thickness 
of  Silurian  strata  in  Wales,  at  from  26,000  to  27,000  feet, 
or  about  five  miles ;  and  if  to  this  we  add  the  vertical 
depth  of  the  Cambrian  strata,  on  which  the  Silurians  lie 
conformably,  there  results,  on  the  lowest  computation,  a 
total  depth  of  seven  miles. 

Now  it  is  held  by  geologists,  that  this  vast  accumula- 
tion of  strata  must  have  been  deposited  in  an  area  of  grad- 
ual subsidence.  These  strata  could  not  have  been  thus 
laid  on  each  other  in  regular  order,  unless  the  Earth's  crust 
had  been  at  that  place  sinking,  either  continuously  or  by 
very  small  steps.  Such  an  immense  subsidence,  however, 
must  have  been  impossible  without  a  crust  of  great  thick- 
ness. The  Earth's  molten  nucleus  tends  ever,  with  enor- 
mous force,  to  assume  the  form  of  a  regular  oblate  sj^he- 
roid.  Any  depression  of  its  crust  below  the  surface  of 
equilibrium,  and  any  elevation  of  its  crust  above  that  sur- 
face, have  to  withstand  immense  resistance.  It  follows 
inevitably  that,  with  a  thin  crust,  nothing  but  small  eleva- 
tions and  subsidences  would  be  possible ;  and  that,  con- 
versely, a  subsidence  of  seven  miles  implies  a  crust  of  com- 
paratively great  strength,  or,  in  other  words,  of  great 
thickness.  Indeed,  if  we  compare  this  inferred  subsidence 
in  the  Silurian  period,  with  such  elevations  and  depressicna 
as  our  existing  continents  and  oceans  display,  we  see  no 
evidence  that  the  Earth's  crust  was  apjoreciably  thinner 
tben  than  now.     What  are  the  implications  ?    If,  as  geolo- 


THE    EAKLY    RECORDS    HAVE   BEEN   DESTROYED.      355 

gists  generally  admit,  the  Earth's  crust  has  resulted  from 
that  slow  cooling  which  is  even  still  going  on — if  we  see  no 
sign  that  at  the  time  when  the  earliest  Cambrian  strata 
were  formed,  this  crust  was  appreciably  thinner  than  now ; 
we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  the  era  during  which  it 
acquired  that  great  thickness  possessed  in  the  Cambrian 
period,  was  enormous  as  compared  with  the  interval  be- 
tween the  Cambrian  period  and  our  own.  But  during  the 
incalculable  series  of  epochs  thus  inferred,  there  existed  an 
ocean,  tides,  winds,  waves,  rain,  rivers.  The  agencies  by 
which  the  denudation  of  continents  and  filling  up  of  seas 
have  all  along  been  carried  on,  were  as  active  then  as  now. 
Endless  successions  of  strata  must  have  been  formed.  And 
when  we  ask — Where  are  they  ?  Nature's  obvious  reply 
is — ^They  have  been  destroyed  by  that  igneous  action  to 
which  so  great  a  part  of  our  oldest-known  strata  owe  their 
fusion  or  metamorj^hosis. 

Only  the  last  chapter  of  the  Earth's  history  has  come 
down  to  us.  The  many  previous  chapters,  stretching  back 
to  a  time  immeasurably  remote,  have  been  burnt ;  and 
with  them  all  the  records  of  life  we  may  presume  they  con- 
tained. The  greater  part  of  the  evidence  which  might 
have  served  to  settle  the  Development-controversy,  is  for 
ever  lost ;  and  on  neither  side  can  the  arguments  derived 
from  Geology  be  conclusive. 

"  But  how  happen  there  to  be  such  evidences  of  pro- 
gression as  exist  ?  "  it  may  be  asked.  "  How  happens  it 
that,  in  ascending  from  the  most  ancient  strata  to  the  most 
recent  strata,  we  do  find  a  succession  of  organic  forms, 
which,  however  irregularly,  carries  us  from  lower  to  high- 
er ?  "  This  question  seems  difficult  to  answer.  Neverthe- 
less, there  is  reason  for  thinking  that  nothing  can  be  safely 
inferred  from  the  apparent  progression  here  cited.  And 
the  illustration  which  shows  as  much,  will,  we  believe,  also 
show  how  little  trust  is  to  be  placed  in  certain  geological 


356  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

generalizations  that  appear  to  be  well  established.  With 
this  somewhat  elaborate  illustration,  to  which  we  now  pass, 
our  criticisms  may  fitly  conclude. 

Let  us  suppose  that  in  a  region  now  covered  by  wide 
ocean,  there  begins  one  of  those  great  and  gradual  up- 
heavals by  which  new  continents  are  formed.  To  be  pre- 
cise, let  us  say  that  in  the  South  Pacific,  midway  between 
New  Zealand  and  Patagonia,  the  sea-bottom  has  been 
little  by  little  thrust  up  towards  the  surface,  and  is  about 
to  emerge.  What  will  be  the  successive  phenomena, 
geological  and  biological,  which  are  likely  to  occur  before  this 
emerging  sea-bottom  has  become  another  Europe  or  Asia  ? 

In  the  first  place,  such  portions  of  the  incipient  land  as 
are  raised  to  the  level  of  the  waves,  will  be  rapidly  denud- 
ed by  them :  their  soft  substance  will  be  torn  up  by  the 
breakers,  carried  away  by  the  local  currents,  and  deposited 
in  neighbouring  deeper  water.  Successive  small  upheavals 
will  bring  new  and  larger  areas  within  reach  of  the  waves  ; 
fresh  portions  will  each  time  be  removed  from  the  surfaces 
pre\^ously  denuded ;  and  further,  some  of  the  newly-form- 
ed strata,  being  elevated  nearly  to  the  level  of  the  water, 
will  be  washed  away  and  re-deposited.  In  course  of  time, 
the  harder  formations  of  the  upraised  sea-bottom  will  be 
uncovered.  These  being  less  easily  destroyed,  will  remain 
permanently  above  the  surface ;  and  at  their  margins  will 
arise  the  usual  breaking  down  of  rocks  into  beach-sand  and 
pebbles.  While  in  the  slow  process  of  this  elevation,  going 
on  at  the  rate  of  perhaps  two  or  three  feet  in  a  century, 
most  of  the  sedimentary  deposits  produced  will  be  again 
and  again  destroyed  and  reformed  ;  there  will,  in  those  ad- 
jacent  areas  of  subsidence  which  accompany  areas  of  eleva- 
tion, be  more  or  less  continuous  successions  of  sedimentary 
deposits. 

And  now  w^hat  will  be  the  character  of  these  new^  strata  ? 
They  will  necessarily  contain   scarcely  any  traces   of   life. 


SUPPOSED   CASE   OF    A    VAST   UPHEAVAL.  357 

The  deposits  that  had  previously  been  slowly  formed  at  the 
bottom  of  this  wide  ocean,  would  be  sprinkled  with  fossils 
of  but  few  species.  The  oceanic  Fauna  is  not  a  rich  one ; 
its  hydrozoa  do  not  admit  of  preservation  ;  and  the  hard 
parts  of  its  few  kinds  of  molluscs  and  crustaceans  and  in- 
sects are  mostly  fragile.  Hence,  when  the  ocean-bed  way 
here  and  there  raised  to  the  surface — w^hen  its  strata  ol 
sediment  with  their  contained  organic  fragments  were  torn 
up  and  long  washed  about  by  the  breakers  before  being  re- 
deposited — when  the  re-de})Osits  were  again  and  again  sub- 
ject to  this  violent  abrading  action  by  subsequent  small  ele- 
vations, as  they  would  mostly  be  ;  what  few  fragile  organic 
remains  they  contained,  would  be  in  nearly  all  cases  destroy- 
ed. Thus  such  of  the  first-formed  strata  as  survived  the 
repeated  changes  of  level,  would  be  practically  "  azoic  ;  " 
like  the  Cambrian  of  our  geologists.  When  by  the  wash- 
ing away  of  the  soft  deposits,  the  hard  sub-strata  had  been 
exposed  in  the  shape  of  rocky  islets,  and  a  footing  had  thus 
been  furnished,  the  pioneers  of  a  new  life  might  be  expect- 
ed to  make  their  appearance.  What  would  they  be? 
Not  any  of  the  surrounding  oceanic  species,  for  these  are 
not  fitted  for  a  littoral  life ;  but  species  flourishing  on  some 
of  the  far-distant  shores  of  the  Pacific.  Of  such  the  first 
to  establish  themselves  would  be  sea-weeds  and  zoophytes  ; 
both  because  their  swarming  spores  and  gemmules  would 
be  the  most  readily  conveyed  with  safety,  and  because  when 
conveyed  they  would  find  fit  food.  It  is  true  that  Cirrhi- 
peds  and  Lamellibranchs,  subsisting  on  the  minute  creatures 
which  everywhere  people  the  sea,  would  also  find  fit 
food. 

But  passing  over  the  fact  that  the  germs  of  such  higher 
forms  are  neither  so  abundant  nor  so  well  fitted  to  bear 
long  voyages,  there  is  the  more  important  fact  that  the  m- 
dividuals  arising  from  these  germs  can  reproduce  only  sex- 
ually, and  that  this  vastly  increases  the  obstacles  to  the  es* 


358  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

tablishment  of  their  races.  The  chances  of  early  coloniza- 
tion are  immensely  in  favour  of  species  which,  multiplying  by 
agamogenesis,  can  people  a  whole  shore  from  a  single  germ  ; 
and  immensely  against  species  Avhich,  multiplying  only  by 
garaogenesis,  must  be  introduced  in  considerable  numbers 
that  some  may  survive,  meet,  and  propagate.  Thus  we  in- 
fer that  the  earliest  traces  of  life  left  in  the  sedimentary  de- 
posits near  these  new  shores,  will  be  traces  of  life  as  humble 
as  that  indicated  in  the  most  ancient  rocks  of  Great  Brit- 
ain and  Ireland.  Imagine  now  that  the  processes  we  have 
briefly  indicated,  continue — that  the  emerging  lands  become 
wider  in  extent,  and  fringed  by  higher  and  more  A^aried 
shores;  and  that  there  still  go  on  those  ocean-currents 
which,  at  long  intervals,  convey  from  far  distant  shores 
immigrant  forms  of  life.  What  will  result  ?  Lapse  of 
time  will  of  course  favour  the  introduction  of  such  new 
forms :  admitting,  as  it  must,  of  those  combinations  of  fit 
conditions,  which,  under  the  law  of  probabilities,  can  occur 
only  at  very  distant  intervals.  Moreover,  the  increasing 
area  of  the  islands,  individually,  and  as  a  group,  implies  in- 
creasing length  of  coast ;  from  which  there  follows  a  longer 
line  of  contact  with  the  streams  and  waves  that  bring  drift- 
ing masses  ;  and,  therefore,  a  greater  chance  that  germs  of 
fresh  life  will  be  stranded. 

And  once  more,  the  comparatively-varied  shores,  pre- 
senting physical  conditions  that  change  from  mile  to  mile, 
will  furnish  suitable  habitats  for  more  numerous  species. 
So  that  as  the  elevation  proceeds,  three  causes  consf)ire  to 
introduce  additional  marine  plants  and  animals.  To  what 
classes  will  the  increasing  Fauna  be  for  a  long  period  con- 
fined ?  Of  course,  to  classes  of  which  individuals,  or  their 
germs,  are  most  liable  to  be  carried  far  away  from  their  native 
shores  by  floating  sea-weed  or  drift-wood  ;  to  classes  which 
are  also  least  likely  to  perish  in  transit,  or  from  change  of  cli' 
mate ;  and  to  those  which  can  best  subsist  around  coasts 


COLONIZATION    OF   THE   NEW   CONTINENT.  359 

comparatively  bare  of  life.  Evidently,  then,  corals,  annelids, 
inferior  molluscs,  and  crustaceans  of  low  grade,  will  chiefly 
constitute  the  early  Fauna.  The  large  predatory  members 
of  these  classes,  will  be  later  in  establishing  themselves ; 
both  because  the  new  shores  must  first  become  well  jdco- 
pled  by  the  creatures  they  prey  on,  and  because,  being 
more  complex,  they  or  their  ova  must  be  less  likely  to 
Biirv:ve  the  journey,  and  the  change  of  conditions. 

We  may  infer,  then,  that  the  strata  deposited  next  after 
the  almost  "  azoic  "  strata,  would  contain  the  remains  of 
invertebrata,  allied  to  those  found  near  the  shores  of  Australia 
and  South  America.  Of  such  invertebrate  remains,  the  low- 
er beds  would  furnish  comparatively  few  genera,  and  those 
of  relatively  low  types  ;  while  in  the  upper  beds  the  num- 
ber of  genera  would  be  greater,  and  the  types  higher :  just  as 
among  the  fossils  of  our  Silu  rian  system.  As  this  great  geolo- 
gic change  slowly  progressed  through  its  long  history  of 
earthquakes,  volcanic  disturbances,  minor  upheavals  and  sub- 
sidences— as  the  extent  of  the  archipelago  became  greater 
and  its  smaller  islands  coalesced  into  larger  ones,  while  its  coast 
line  grew  still  longer  and  more  varied,  and  the  neighbouring 
sea  more  thickly  inhabited  by  inferior  forms  of  life  ;  the  lowest 
division  of  the  vertebrata  would  begin  to  be  represented. 
In  order  of  time,  fish  would  naturally  come  after  the  lower 
invertebrata :  both  as  being  less  likely  to  have  their  ova 
transported  across  the  waste  of  waters,  and  as  requiring 
for  their  subsistence  a  pre-existing  Fauna  of  some  devel- 
opment. They  might  be  expected  to  make  their  appearance 
along  with  the  predaceous  crustaceans ;  as  they  do  in  the 
uppermost  Silurian  rocks. 

And  here,  too,  let  us  remark,  that  as,  during  this  long 
epoch  we  have  been  describing,  the  sea  would  have  made 
great  inroads  on  some  of  the  newly  raised  lands  that  had 
remained  stationary ;  and  would  probably  in  some  places 
have  reached  masses  of  igneous  or  metamorphic  rocks  • 


360  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

there  might,  in  course  of  time,  arise  by  the  decomposition 
and  denudation  of  such  rocks,  local  deposits  coloured  with 
oxide  of  iron,  like  our  Old  Red  Sandstone.  And  in  these 
deposits  might  be  buried  the  remains  of  the  fish  then  peo 
pling  the  neighbouring  sea. 

Meanwhile,  how  would  the  surfaces  of  the  upheaved 
masses  be  occupied  ?  At  first  their  deserts  of  naked  rocks 
and  pebbles  would  bear  only  the  humblest  forms  of  vegetal 
life,  such  as  we  find  in  grey  and  orange  patches  on  our 
own  rugged  mountain  sides  ;  for  these  alone  could  flourish 
on  such  surfaces,  and  their  spores  would  be  the  most  read- 
ily transported.  When,  by  the  decay  of  such  protophytes, 
and  that  decomposition  of  rock  efi*ected  by  them,  there 
had  resulted  a  fit  habitat  for  mosses  ;  these,  of  which  the 
germs  might  be  conveyed  in  drifted  trees,  would  begin  to 
spread.  A  soil  having  been  eventually  thus  produced,  it 
would  become  possible  for  plants  of  higher  organization  to 
find  roothold ;  and  as  in  the  way  we  have  described  the 
archipelago  and  its  constituent  islands  grew  larger,  and 
had  more  multiplied  relations  with  winds  and  waters,  such 
h*igher  plants  might  be  expected  ultimately  to  have  their 
seeds  transferred  from  the  nearest  lands.  After  something 
like  a  Flora  had  thus  colonized  the  surface,  it  would  be- 
come possible  for  insects  to  exist ;  and  of  air-breathing 
creatures,  insects  would  manifestly  be  among  the  first  to 
find  their  way  from  elsewhere. 

As,  however,  terrestrial  organisms,  both  vegetal  and 
animal,  are  much  less  likely  than  marine  organisms  to  sur- 
vive the  accidents  of  transport  from  distant  shores ;  it  is 
clear  that  long  after  the  sea  surrounding  these  new  lands 
Had  acquired  a  varied  Flora  and  Fauna,  the  lands  them- 
selves would  still  be  comparatively  bare  ;  and  thus  that  the 
early  strata,  like  our  Silurians,  would  afford  no  traces  of 
terrestrial  Ufe.  By  the  time  that  large  areas  had  been 
raised  above  the  ocean,  we  may  fairly  suppose  a  luxuriant 


CONDITIONS    OF   COAL   DEPOSIT.  361 

vegetation  to  have  been  acquired.  Under  what  circum- 
stances are  we  Ukely  to  find  this  vegetation  fossilized  ? 
Large  surfaces  of  land  impfy  large  rivers  with  their  accom- 
panying deltas ;  and  are  liable  to  have  lakes  and  swamps 
These,  as  we  know  from  extant  cases,  are  favourable  t( 
rank  vegetation  ;  and  afford  the  conditions  needful  for  pre- 
serving it  in  the  shape  of  coal-beds.  Observe,  then,  that 
while  m  the  early  history  of  such  a  continent  a  carbonif- 
erous period  could  not  occur,  the  occurrence  of  a  carbonif- 
erous period  would  become  probable  after  long-continued 
upheavals  had  uncovered  large  areas.  As  in  our  own  sedi- 
mentary series,  coal-beds  would  make  their  appearance  only 
after  there  had  been  enormous  accumulations  of  earlier 
strata  charged  with  marine  fossils. 

Let  us  ask  next,  in  what  order  the  higher  forms  of  ani- 
mal life  would  make  their  appearance.  We  have  seen  how, 
in  the  succession  of  marine  forms,  there  would  be  some- 
thing like  a  progress  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  :  bring- 
ing us  in  the  end  to  predaceous  molluscs,  crustaceans,  and 
fish.  What  are  likely  to  succeed  fish  ?  After  marine  crea- 
tures, those  which  would  have  the  greatest  chance  of  sur- 
viving the  voyage  would  be  amphibious  reptiles :  both  be- 
cause they  are  more  tenacious  of  life  than  higher  animals, 
and  because  they  would  be  less  completely  out  of  their 
element.  Such  reptiles  as  can  live  in  both  fresh  and  salt 
water,  like  alligators ;  and  such  as  are  drifted  out  of  the 
mouths  of  great  rivers  on  floating  trees,  as  Humboldt  says 
the  Orinoco  alligators  are ;  might  be  early  colonists. 

It  is  manifest,  too,  that  rej^tiles  of  other  kinds  would 
be  among  the  first  vertebrata  to  people  the  new  continent. 
If  we  consider  what  will  occur  on  one  of  those  natural 
rafts  of  trees,  soil,  and  matted  vegetable  matter,  sometimes 
swept  out  to  sea  by  such  currents  as  the  Mississippi,  with  a 
miscellaneous  living  cargo ;  we  shall  see  that  while  the 
active,  hot-blooded,  highly-organized  creatures  will  soop 
16 


362  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

die  of  starvation  and  exposure,  the  inert,  cold-blooded 
ones,  which  can  go  long  without  food,  will  live  perhaps  for 
weeks ;  and  so,  out  of  the  chances  from  time  to  time  oc- 
curring during  long  periods,  reptiles  will  be  the  first  to  get 
safely  landed  on  foreign  shores ;  as  indeed  they  are  even 
now  known  sometimes  to  be.  The  transport  of  mammalia 
being  comparatively  precarious,  must,  in  the  order  of  prob- 
ability, be  longer  postponed ;  and  would,  indeed,  be  un- 
likely to  occur  until  by  the  enlargement  of  the  new  conti- 
nent, the  distances  of  its  shores  from  adjacent  lands  had 
been  greatly  diminished,  or  the  formation  of  intervening 
islands  had  increased  the  chances  of  survival. 

Assuming,  however,  that  the  facilities  of  immigration 
had  become  adequate  ;  which  would  be  the  first  mammals 
to  arrive  and  live  ?  Not  large  herbivores  ;  for  they  would 
be  soon  drowned  if  by  any  accident  carried  out  to  sea. 
Not  the  carnivora  ;  for  these  would  lack  appropriate  food, 
even  if  they  outlived  the  voyage.  Small  quadrupeds  fre- 
quenting trees,  and  feeding  on  insects,  would  be  those  most 
likely  both  to  be  drifted  away  from  their  native  lands  and 
to  find  fit  food  in  a  new  one.  Insectivorous  mammals,  like 
in  size  to  those  found  in  the  Trias  and  the  Stonesfield  slate, 
might  naturally  be  looked  for  as  the  pioneers  of  the  higher 
vertebrata.  And  if  we  suppose  the  facihties  of  communi- 
cation to  be  again  increased,  either  by  a  further  shallowing 
of  the  intervening  sea  and  a  consequent  multiplication  of 
islands,  or  by  an  actual  junction  of  the  new  continent  with 
an  old  one,  through  continued  upheavals ;  we  should  finally 
have  an  influx  of  the  larger  and  more  perfect  mammals. 

Now  rude  as  is  this  sketch  of  a  process  that  would  be 
extremely  elaborate  and  involved,  and  open  as  some  of  its 
propositions  are  to  criticisms  which  there  /S  no  space  here 
to  meet ;  no  one  will  deny  that 'it  represents  something  like 
the  biologic  history  of  the  supposed  new  continent.  De 
tails  apart,  it  is  manifest  that  simple  organisms,  able  to 


HIGHER   LIFE   UPON   THE   NEW   CONTINENT.  363 

flourish  under  simple  conditions  of  life,  would  be  the  first 
successful  immigrants  ;  and  that  more  complex  organisms^ 
needing  for  their  existence  the  fulfilment  of  more  complex 
conditions,  would  afterwards  establish  themselves  in  some- 
thinor  like  an  ascendino^  succession.  At  the  one  extreme 
we  see  every -facility.  The  new  individuals  can  be  con- 
veyed in  the  shape  of  minute  germs ;  these  are  infinite  in 
their  numbers  ;  they  are  difi'used  in  the  sea  ;  they  are  per- 
petually being  carried  in  all  directions  to  great  distances 
by  ocean-currents ;  they  can  survive  such  long  journeys 
unharmed  ;  they  can  find  nutriment  wherever  they  arrive  ; 
and  the  resulting  organisms  can  multiply  asexually  with 
great  rapidity. 

At  the  other  extreme,  we  see  every  diflSculty.  The 
»iew  individuals  must  be  conveyed  in  their  adult  forms ; 
their  numbers  are,  in  comparison,  utterly  insignificant ; 
they  live  on  land,  and  are  very  unlikely  to  be  carried  out 
to  sea ;  when  so  carried,  the  chances  are  immense  against 
their  escape  from  drowning,  starvation,  or  death  by  cold ; 
if  they  survive  the  transit,  they  must  have  a  pre-existing 
Flora  or  Fauna  to  supply  their  special  food  ;  they  require, 
also,  the  fulfilment  of  various  other  physical  conditions ; 
and  unless  at  least  two  individuals  of  different  sexes  are 
safely  landed,  the  race  cannot  be  established.  Manifestly, 
then,  the  immigration  of  each  successively  higher  order  of 
organisms,  having,  from  one  or  other  additional  condition 
to  be  fulfilled,  an  enormously-increased  probability  against 
it,  would  naturally  be  separated  from  the  immigration  of  a 
lower  order  by  some  period  like  a  geologic  epoch. 

And  thus  the  successive  sedimentary  deposits  formed 
while  this  new  continent  was  undergoing  gradual  elevation, 
would  seem  to  furnish  clear  evidence  of  a  general  progress 
in  the  forms  of  life.  That  lands  thus  raised  up  in  the  midst 
of  a  vride  ocean,  would  fii-st  give  origin  to  unfossiliferous 
strata ;  next,  to  strata  containing  only  the  lowest  marine 


364  ILLOGICAL   GEOLOGY. 

forms ;  next,  to  strata  containing  higher  marine  forms,  as* 
cending  finally  to  fish ;  and  that  the  strata  above  these 
would  contain  reptiles,  then  small  mammals,  then  great 
mammals  ;  seems  to  us  to  be  demonstrable  from  the  known 
laws  of  organic  life. 

And  if  the  succession  of  fossils  presented  by  the  strata 
cf  this  supposed  new  continent,  would  thus  simulate  the 
succession  presented  by  our  own  sedimentary  series ;  must 
we  not  say  that  our  own  sedimentary  series  very  possibly 
records  nothing  more  than  the  phenomena  accompanying 
one  of  these  great  upheavals  ?  We  think  this  must  be 
considered  not  only  possible,  but  highly  probable :  har- 
monizing as  it  does  with  the  unavoidable  conclusion  before 
pointed  out,  that  geological  changes  must  have  been  going 
on  for  a  period  immeasurably  greater  than  that  of  which 
we  have  records.  And  if  the  probability  of  this  conclu- 
sion be  admitted,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  facts  of 
Palaeontology  can  never  suffice  either  to  prove  or  disprove 
the  Development  Hypothesis  ;  but  that  the  most  they  can 
do  is,  to  show  whether  the  last  few  pages  of  the  Earth's 
biologic  history  are  or  are  not  in  harmony  with  this  hy- 
pothesis— whether  the  existing  Flora  and  Fauna  can  or  can 
not  be  affiliated  upon  the  Flora  and  Fauna  of  the  most  re^ 
cent  geologic  times. 


IX. 

THE  DEVELOPMENT  HYPOTHESIS. 


IN  a  debate  upon  the  development  hypothesis,  lately  nar 
rated  to  me  by  a  friend,  one  of  the  disputants  was  de- 
scribed as  arguing,  that  as,  in  all  our  experience,  we  know 
no  such  phenomenon  as  transmutation  of  species,  it  is  un- 
philosophical  to  assume  that  transmutation  of  species  e\  er 
takes  place.  Had  I  been  present,  I  think  that,  passing  over 
his  assertion,  which  is  open  to  criticism,  I  should  have  re- 
plied that,  as  in  all  our  experience  we  have  never  known  a 
species  created^  it  was,  by  his  own  showing,  unphilosophical 
to  assume  that  any  species  ever  had  been  created. 

Those  who  cavalierly  reject  the  Theory  of  Evolution,  as 
not  adequately  supported  by  facts,  seem  quite  to  forget 
that  their  own  theory  is  supported  by  no  facts  at  all.  Like 
the  majority  of  men  who  are  born  to  a  given  belief,  they 
demand  the  most  rigorous  proof  of  any  adverse  belief,  but 
assume  that  their  own  needs  none.  Here  we  find,  scattered 
over  the  globe,  vegetable  and  animal  organisms  numbering, 
of  the  one  kind  (according  to  Humboldt),  some  320,000 
species,  and  of  the  other,  some  2,000,000  species  (see  Car- 
penter) ;  and  if  to  these  we  add  the  numbers  of  animal  and 
vegetable  species  that  have  become  extinct,  we  may  safelj 
estimate  the  number  of  species  that  have  existed,  and  are 


366  THE   DEVELOPMENT   HYPOTHESIS. 

existing,  on  the  Earth,  at  not  less  than  ten  millions.  Well, 
which  is  the  most  rational  theory  about  these  ten  millions 
of  species  ?  Is  it  most  likely  that  there  have  been  ten  mil- 
lions of  special  creations  ?  or  is  it  most  likely  that  by  con- 
tinual moclijBcations,  due  to  change  of  circumstances,  ten 
millions  of  varieties  have  been  produced,  as  varieties  are 
being  produced  still  ? 

Doubtless  many  will  reply  that  they  can  more  easily 
conceive  ten  millions  of  special  creations  to  have  taken 
place,  than  they  can  conceive  that  ten  millions  of  varieties 
have  arisen  by  successive  modifications.  All  such,  howev- 
er, will  find,  on  inquiry,  that  they  are  under  an  illusion. 
This  is  one  of  the  many  cases  in  which  men  do  not  really 
believe,  but  rather  believe  they  believe.  It  is  not  that  they 
can  truly  conceive  ten  millions  of  special  creations  to  have 
taken  place,  but  that  they  think  they  can  do  so.  Careful 
introspection  will  show  them  that  they  have  never  yet  real- 
ized to  themselves  the  creation  of  even  o?ie  species.  If 
they  have  formed  a  definite  conception  of  the  process,  let 
them  tell  us  how  a  new  species  is  constructed,  and  how  it 
makes  its  appearance.  Is  it  thrown  down  from  the  clouds? 
or  must  we  hold  to  the  notion  that  it  struggles  up  out  of 
the  ground  ?  Do  its  limbs  and  viscera  rush  together  from 
all  the  points  of  the  compass  ?  or  must  we  receive  the  old 
Hebrew  idea,  that  God  takes  clay  and  moulds  a  new  crea- 
ture ?  If  they  say  that  a  new  creature  is  produced  in  none 
of  these  modes,  which  are  too  absurd  to  be  believed  ;  then 
they  are  required  to  describe  the  mode  in  which  a  new 
creature  may  be  produced — a  mode  which  does  not  seem 
absurd  :  and  such  a  mode  they  will  find  that  they  neither 
have  conceived  nor  can  conceive. 

Should  the  believers  in  special  creations  consider  it  un- 
fair thus  to  call  uj3on  them  to  describe  how  special  creations 
take  place,  I  reply,  that  this  is  far  less  than  they  demand 
from  the  supporters  of  the  Development  Hypothesis.     They 


IMPRESSIBILITY    OF    ORGANISMS.  307 

are  merely  asked  to  point  out  a  conceivoMe  mode.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  ask,  not  simply  for  a  conceivable  mode, 
but  for  the  actual  mode.  They  do  not  say — Show  ns  how 
this  may  take  place  ;  but  they  say — Show  us  how  this  does 
take  place.  So  far  from  its  being  unreasonable  to  put  the 
above  question,  it  would  be  reasonable  to  ask  not  only  for 
2k possible  mode  of  special  creation,  but  for  an  ascertained 
mode ;  seeing  that  this  is  no  greater  a  demand  than  they 
make  upon  their  opponents. 

And  here  we  may  perceive  how  much  more  defensible 
the  new  doctrine  is  than  the  old  one.  Even  could  the  sup- 
porters of  the  Development  Hypothesis  merely  show  that 
the  origination  of  species  by  the  process  of  modification  is 
conceivable,  they  would  be  in  a  better  position  than  their 
opi^onents.  But  they  can  do  much  more  than  this.  They 
can  show  that  the  process  of  modification  has  effected,  and 
is  effecting,  decided  changes  in  all  organisms  subject  to 
modifying  influences.  Though,  from  the  impossibility  of 
getting  at  a  sufficiency  of  facts,  they  are  unable  to  trace 
the  many  phases  through  which  any  existing  species  has 
passed  in  arriving  at  its  present  form,  or  to  identify  the  in- 
fluences which  caused  the  successive  modifications ;  yet, 
they  can  show  that  any  existing  species — animal  or  vegeta- 
ble— when  placed  under  conditions  different  from  its  pre- 
vious ones,  immediately  begins  to  undergo  certaih  changes 
of  structure  fitting  it  for  the  new  conditions.  They  can 
show  that  in  successive  generations  these  changes  continue, 
until  ultimately  the  new  conditions  become  the  natural 
ones.  They  can  show  that  in  cultivated  plants,  in  domesti- 
cated animals,  and  in  the  several  races  of  men,  such  altera- 
tions have  taken  place.  They  can  show  that  the  degrees 
of  difference  so  produced  are  often,  as  in  dogs,  greater  than 
those  on  which  distinctions  of  species  are  in  other  cases 
founded.  They  can  show  that  it  is  a  matter  of  dispute 
wb*^ther  some  of  these  modified  forms  are  varieties  or  sepa- 


368  THE   DEVELOPMENT   HYPOTHESIS. 

rate  species.  They  can  show,  too,  that  the  changes  daily 
taking  place  in  ourselves — the  facility  that  attends  long 
practice,  and  the  loss  of  aptitude  that  begins  when  practice 
ceases — the  strengthening  of  passions  habitually  gratified, 
and  the  weakening  of  those  habitually  curbed — the  devel- 
opment of  every  faculty,  bodily,  moral,  or  intellectual,  ac- 
cording to  the  use  made  of  it — are  all  explicable  on  this 
same  principle.  And  thus  they  can  show  that  throughout 
all  organic  nature  there  is  at  work  a  modifying  influence 
of  the  kind  they  assign  as  the  cause  of  these  specific  difter- 
ences  :  an  influence  which,  though  slow  in  its  action,  does, 
in  time,  if  the  circumstances  demand  it,  produce  marked 
changes — an  influence  which,  to  all  appearance,  would  pro- 
duce in  the  millions  of  years,  and  under  the  great  varieties 
of  condition  which  geological  records  imply,  any  amount 
of  change. 

Which,  then,  is  the  most  rational  hypothesis  ? — that  of 
special  creations  w^hich  has  neither  a  fact  to  support  it  nor 
is  even  definitely  conceivable ;  or  that  of  modification, 
which  is  not  only  definitely  conceivable,  but  is  countenanced 
by  the  habitudes  of  every  existing  organism  ? 

That  by  any  series  of  changes  a  protozoon  should  ever 
become  a  mammal,  seems  to  those  who  are  not  familiar 
with  zoology,  and  who  have  not  seen  how  clear  becomes 
the  relationship  between  the  simj)lest  and  the  most  com- 
plex forms  when  intermediate  forms  are  examined,  a  very 
grotesque  notion.  Habitually  looking  at  things  rather  in 
their  statical  than  in  their  dynamical  aspect,  they  nevei 
realize  the  fact  that,  by  small  increments  of  modification, 
any  amount  of  modification  may  in  time  be  generated. 
That  surprise  which  they  feel  on  finding  one  whom  they 
last  saw  as  a  boy,  grown  into  a  man,  becomes  incredulity 
when  the  degree  of  change  is  greater.  Nevertheless,  abun- 
dant instances  are  at  hand  of  the  mode  in  which  we  may 
pass  to  the  most  diverse  forms,  by  insensible  gradations. 


EFFECTS    OF   INSENSIBLE   MODIFICATIONS.  369 

Arguing  the  matter  some  time  since  with  a  learned  pro- 
fessor, I  illustrated  my  position  thus: — You  admit  that 
there  is  no  apparent  relationship  between  a  circle  and  an 
hyperbola.  The  one  is  a  finite  curv^e ;  the  other  is  an  in- 
finite one.  All  parts  of  the  one  are  alike  ;  of  the  other  no 
two  parts  are  alike.  The  one  incloses  a  space ;  the  other 
will  not  inclose  a  space  though  produced  for  ever.  Yet 
opposite  as  are  these  curves  in  all  their  properties,  they 
may  be  connected  together  by  a  series  of  intermediate 
curves,  no  one  of  which  difiers  from  the  adjacent  ones  in 
any  appreciable  degree.  Thus,  if  a  cone  be  cut  by  a  plane 
at  right  angles  to  its  axis  we  get  a  circle.  If,  instead  of 
being  perfectly  at  right  angles,  the  plane  subtends  with  the 
axis  an  angle  of  89°  59',  we  have  an  ellipse,  which  no  hu- 
man eye,  even  when  aided  by  an  accurate  pair  of  compasses, 
can  distinguish  from  a  circle.  Decreasing  the  angle  min- 
ute by  minute,  the  ellipse  becomes  first  perceptibly  eccen- 
tric, then  manifestly  so,  and  by  and  by  acquires  so  im- 
mensely elongated  a  form,  as  to  bear  no  recognisable  re- 
semblance to  a  circle.  By  continuing  this  process,  the 
ellipse  passes  insensibly  into  a  parabola ;  and  ultimately,  by 
still  further  diminishing  the  angle,  into  an  hyperbola.  Now 
here  we  have  four  different  species  of  curve — circle,  ellipse, 
parabola,  and  hyperbola — each  having  its  peculiar  proper- 
ties and  its  separate  equation,  and  the  first  and  last  of  which 
are  quite  opposite  in  nature,  connected  together  as  mem- 
bers of  one  series,  all  producible  by  a  single  process  of  in- 
sensible modification. 

But  the  blindness  of  those  who  think  it  absurd  to  sup- 
pose that  complex  organic  forms  may  have  arisen  by  suc- 
cessive modifications  out  of  simple  ones,  becomes  astonish- 
ing when  we  remember  that  complex  organic  forms  are 
daily  being  thus  produced.  A  tree  differs  from  a  seed 
immeasurably  in  every  respect — in  bulk,  in  structure,  in 
colour,  in  form,  in  specific  gravity,  in  chemical  composition : 


370  THE   DEVELOPMEJST    HYPOTHESIS. 

differs  so  greatly  that  no  visible  resemblance  of  any  kind 
can  be  pointed  out  between  them.  Yet  is  the  one  changed 
in  the  course  of  a  few  years  into  the  other :  changed  so 
gradually,  that  at  no  moment  can  it  be  said — Xow  the 
Beed  ceases  to  be,  and  the  tree  exists.  What  can  be  more 
widely  contrasted  than  a  newly-born  child  and  the  small, 
semi-transparent,  gelatinous  spherule  constituting  the  hu- 
man ovum  ?  The  infant  is  so  complex  in  structure  that  a 
cyclopaedia  is  needed  to  describe  its  constituent  parts. 
The  germinal  vesicle  is  so  simple  that  it  may  be  defined  in 
a  line.  Nevertheless,  a  few  months  suffice  to  develop  the 
one  out  of  the  other  ;  and  that,  too,  by  a  series  of  modifi- 
cations so  small,  that  were  the  embryo  examined  at  succes- 
sive minutes,  even  a  microscope  would  with  difficulty  dis- 
close any  sensible  changes.  That  the  uneducated  and  the 
ill-educated  should  think  the  hypothesis  that  all  races  of 
beings,  man  inclusive,  may  in  process  of  time  have  been 
evolved  from  the  simj^lest  monad,  a  ludicrous  one,  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at.  But  for  the  physiologist,  who  knows  that 
every  individual  being  is  so  evolved — who  knows  further, 
that  in  their  earliest  condition  the  germs  of  all  plants  and 
animals  whatever  are  so  similar,  "that  there  is  no  apprecia- 
ble distinction  amongst  them  which  would  enable  it  to  be 
determined  whether  a  particular  molecule  is  the  germ  of  a 
conferva  or  of  an  oak,  of  a  zoophyte  or  of  a  man  ; "  ^ — for 
him  to  make  a  difficulty  of  the  matter  is  inexcusable.  Sure- 
ly if  a  single  cell  may,  when  subjected  to  certain  influences, 
become  a  man  in  the  space  of  twenty  years ;  there  is 
nothing  absurd  in  the  hypothesis  that  under  certain  other 
influences,  a  cell  may  in  the  course  of  millions  of  years 
give  origin  to  the  human  race.  The  two  processes  are 
generically  the  same;  and  difier  only. in  length  and  com- 
plexity. 

We  have,  indeed,  in  the  part  taken  by  many  scientific 
*  Carpenter. 


SO[JKCE    OF    THE    NOTION    OF    SPECIAL    CREATIONS.     371 

men  in  this  controversy  of  "  Law  versus  Miracle,"  a  good 
illustration  of  the  tenacious  vitality  of  superstitions.  Ask 
one  of  our  leading  geologists  or  physiologists  whether  he 
believes  in  the  Mosaic  account  of  the  creation,  and  he  will 
take  the  question  as  next  to  an  insult.  Either  he  rejects 
the  narrative  entirely,  or  understands  it  in  some  vague 
non-natural  sense.  Yet  one  part  of  it  he  unconsciously 
adopts ;  and  that,  too,  literally.  For  whence  has  he  got 
this  notion  of  "  special  creations,"  which  he  thinks  so 
reasonable,  and  fights  for  so  vigorously  ?  Evidently  he 
can  trace  it  back  to  no  other  source  than  this  myth  which 
he  reiDudiates.  He  has  not  a  single  fact  in  nature  to  quote 
in  proof  of  it;  nor  is  he  prepared  with  any  chain  of  abstract 
reasoning  by  which  it  may  be  established.  Catechise  him, 
and  he  will  be  forced  to  confess  that  the  notion  was  put  into 
his  mind  in  childhood  as  part  of  a  story  which  he  now 
thinks  absurd.  And  why,  after  rejecting  all  the  rest  of  this 
story,  he  should  strenuously  defend  this  last  remnant  of  it 
as  though  he  had  received  it  on  valid  authority,  he  would 
be  puzzled  to  say. 


X. 

THE  SOCIAL  ORGANISM. 


SIR  JAJVIES  MACINTOSH  got  great  credit  for  the 
saying,  that  "  constitutions  are  not  made,  but  grow." 
In  our  day,  the  most  significant  thing  about  this  saying  is, 
that  it  was  ever  thouo-ht  so  sis^nificant.  As  from  the  sur- 
prise  displayed  by  a  man  at  some  famihar  fact,  you  may 
judge  of  his  general  culture ;  so  from  the  admiration 
which  an  age  accords  to  a  new  thought,  its  average  degree 
of  enlightenment  may  be  inferred.  That  this  apophthegm 
of  Macintosh  should  have  been  quoted  and  re-quoted  as  it 
has,  shows  how  profound  has  been  the  ignorance  of  social 
science.  A  small  ray  of  truth  has  seemed  brilliant,  as  a 
distant  rushlight  looks  like  a  star  in  the  surrounding  dajk- 
ness. 

Such  a  conception  could  not,  indeed,  fail  to  be  startling 
when  let  fall  in  the  midst  of  a  system  of  thought  to  which 
it  was  utterly  alien.  Universally  in  Macintosh's  day,  things 
were  explained  on  the  hypothesis  of  manufacture,  rather 
than  that  of  growth  :  as  indeed  they  are,  by  the  majority, 
in  our  own  day.  It  was  held  that  the  planets  were  sever- 
ally projected  round  the  sun  from  the  Creator's  hand;  with 
exactly  the  velocity  required  to  balance  the  sun's  attrac- 
tion. The  formation  of  the  Earth,  the  separation  of  sea 
from  land,  the   production   of  animals,  were   mechanical 


SOCIETIES   ABE   NOT   MADE,  BUT   GROW.  373 

works  from  which  God  rested  as  a  labourer  rests.  Man 
was  supposed  to  be  moulded  after  a  manner  somewhat  akin 
to  that  in  which  a  modeller  makes  a  clay-figure.  And  of 
course,  in  harmony  with  such  ideas,  societies  were  tacitly 
assumed  to  be  arranged  thus  or  thus  by  direct  interposition 
of  Providence  ;  or  by  the  regulations  of  law-makers ;  or  by 
both. 

Yot  that  societies  are  not  artificially  put  together,  is  a 
truth  so  manifest,  that  it  seems  wonderful  men  should  have 
ever  overlooked  it.  Perhaps  nothing  more  clearly  shows 
the  small  value  of  historical  studies,  as  they  have  been 
commonly  pursued.  You  need  but  to  look  at  the  changes 
going  on  around,  or  observe  social  organization  in  its  lead- 
ing peculiarities,  to  see  that  these  are  neither  supernatural, 
nor  are  determined  by  the  wills  of  individual  men,  as  by 
implication  historians  commonly  teach  ;  but  are  consequent 
on  general  natural  causes.  The  one  case  of  the  division  of 
labour  suflSces  to  show  this.  It  has  not  been  by  command 
of  any  ruler  that  some  men  have  become  manufacturers, 
while  others  have  remained  cultivators  of  the  soil.  In 
Lancashire,  millions  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  making 
of  cotton-fabrics ;  in  Yorkshire,  another  million  lives  by 
producing  woollens ;  and  the  pottery  of  Staffordshire,  the 
cutlery  of  Sheffield,  the  hardware  of  Birmingham,  severally 
occupy  their  hundreds  of  thousands.  These  are  large 
facts  in  the  structure  of  English  society ;  but  we  can  as- 
cribe them  neither  to  miracle,  nor  to  legislation.  It  is  not 
by  "  the  hero  as  king,"  any  more  than  by  "  collective  wis- 
dom," that  men  have  been  segregated  into  producers, 
wholesale  distributors,  and  retail  distributors. 

The  whole  of  our  industrial  organization,  from  its  main 
outlines  down  to  its  minutest  details,  has  become  what  it 
is,  not  simply  without  legislative  guidance,  but,  to  a  con- 
siderable extent,  in  spite  of  legislative  hindrances.  It  has 
arisen  under  the  pressure  of  *human  wants  and  activities. 


374  THE    SOCIAL   OBGAJSriSM. 

While  each  citizen  has  been  pursuing  his  individual  wel 
fare,  and  none  taking  thought  about  division  of  labour,  or, 
indeed,  conscious  of  the  need  for  it,  division  of  labour  has 
yet  been  ever  becoming  more  complete.  It  has  been  doing 
this  slowly  and  silently :  scarcely  any  having  observed  it 
until  quite  modern  times.  By  stej)s  so  small,  that  year 
after  year  the  industrial  arrangements  have  seemed  to  men 
just  what  they  were  before — by  changes  as  insensible  as 
those  through  which  a  seed  passes  into  a  tree  ;  society  has 
become  the  complex  body  of  mutually-dependent  workers 
which  we  now  see.  And  this  economic  organization,  mark, 
is  the  all-essential  organization.  Through  the  combination 
thus  spontaneously  evolved,  every  citizen  is  supplied  with 
daily  necessaries ;  while  he  yields  some  product  or  aid  to 
others.  .  That  we  are  severally  alive  to-day,  we  owe  to  the 
regular  working  of  this  combination  during  the  past  week; 
and  could  it  be  suddenly  abolished,  a  great  proportion  of 
us  would  be  dead  before  another  week  ended.  If  these 
most  conspicuous  and  vital  arrangements  of  our  social 
structure,  have  arisen  without  the  devising  of  any  one,  but 
through  the  individual  efforts  of  citizens  to  satisfy  their 
own  wants ;  we  may  be  tolerably  certain  that  the  less  im- 
portant arrangements  have  similarly  arisen. 

"  But  surely,"  it  will  be  said,  "  the  social  changes  di- 
rectly produced  by  law,  cannot  be  classed  as  spontaneous 
growths.  When  parliaments  or  kings  order  this  or  that 
thing  to  be  done,  and  appoint  officials  to  do  it,  the  process 
is  clearly  artificial ;  and  society  to  this  extent  becomes  a 
manufacture  rather  than  a  growth.''  No,  not  even  these 
changes  are  exceptions,  if  they  be  real  and  permanent 
changes.  The  true  sources  of  such  changes  lie  deeper 
than  the  acts  of  legislators.  To  take  first  the  simj)lest 
instance.  We  all  know  that  the  enactments  of  represent- 
ative governments  ultimately  depend  on  the  national 
will:   they  may  for  a  time  be  out  of  harmony  with  it,  but 


GOVERNMENTS   BOOTED   IN   SOCIAL   LIFE.  SiO 

eventually  they  must  conform  to  it.  And  to  say  that  the 
national  will  finally  determines  them,  is  to  say  that  they 
result  from  the  average  of  individual  desires ;  or,  in 
other  words — from  the  average  of  individual  natures.  A 
law  so  initiated,  therefore,  really  grows  out  of  the  popular 
character. 

In  the  case  of  a  Government  representing  a  dominant 
class,  the  same  things  holds,  though  not  so  manifestly. 
For  the  very  existence  of  a  class  monopolizing  all  power,  is 
due  to  certain  sentiments  in  the  commonalty.  But  for  the 
feeling  of  loyalty  on  the  part  of  retainers,  a  feudal  system 
could  not  exist.  We  see  in  the  protest  of  the  Highlanders 
against  the  abolition  of  heritable  jurisdictions,  that  they 
preferred  that  kind  of  local  rule.  And  if  to  the  popular 
nature,  must  thus  be  ascribed  the  growth  of  an  irresponsi- 
ble ruling  class ;  then  to  the  popular  nature  must  be  as- 
cribed the  social  arrangements  which  that  class  creates  in 
the  pursuit  of  its  own  ends.  Even  w^here  the  Government 
is  despotic,  the  doctrine  still  holds.  The  character  of  the 
people  is,  as  before,  the  original  source  of  this  political 
fo^m;  and,  as  we  have  abundant  proof,  other  forms  sud- 
denly created  will  not  act,  but  rapidly  retrograde  to  the 
old  form.  Moreover,  such  regulat'ons  as  a  despot  makes, 
if  really  operative,  are  so  because  of  their  fitness  to  the 
social  state.  His  acts  being  very  much  swayed  by  gen- 
eral opinion — by  precedent,  by  the  feeling  of  his  nobles, 
his  priesthood,  his  army — are  in  part  immediate  results 
of  the  national  character ;  and  when  th^y  are  out  of  har- 
mony with  the  national  character,  they  are  soon  practically 
abrogated. 

The  failure  of  Cromwell  permanently  to  establish  a  new 
social  condition,  and  the  rapid  revival  of  suppressed  institu- 
tions and  practices  after  his  death,  show  how  powerless  is 
a  monarch  to  change  the  type  of  the  society  he  governs. 
He  may  disturb,  he  may  retard,  or  he  may  aid  the  natural 


376  THE  SOCIAL   OEGAiaSM. 

process  of  organization  ;  but  the  general  coarse  of  this 
process  is  beyond  his  control.  N^ay,  more  than  this  is  true. 
Those  who  regard  the  histories  of  societies  as  the  histories 
of  their  great  men,  and  think  that  these  great  men  shape 
the  fates  of  their  societies,  overlook  the  truth  that  such 
great  men  are  the  products  of  their  societies.  Without  cer- 
tain antecedents — without  a  certain  average  national  char- 
acter, they  could  neither  have  been  generated  nor  could 
have  had  the  culture  which  formed  them.  If  their  society 
is  to  some  extent  re-moulded  by  them,  they  were,  both 
before  and  after  birth,  moulded  by  their  society — were  the 
results  of  all  those  influences  which  fostered  the  ancestral 
character  they  inherited,  and  gave  their  own  early  bias,  their 
creed,  morals,  knowledge,  aspirations.  So  that  such  social 
changes  as  are  immediately  traceable  to  individuals  of  un- 
usual power,  are  still  remotely  traceable  to  the  social  causes 
which  produced  these  individuals,  and  hence,  from  the 
highest  jDoint  of  view,  such  social  changes  also,  are  parts 
of  the  general  developmental  process. 

Thus  that  which  is  so  obviously  true  of  the  industrial 
structure  of  society,  is  true  of  its  whole  structure.  The  fact 
that  "  constitutions  are  not  made,  but  grow,"  is  simply  a 
fragment  of  the  much  larger  fact,  that  under  all  its  aspects 
and  though  all  its  ramifications,  society  is  a  growth  and  not 
a  manufacture. 

A  perception  that  there  exists  some  analogy  between 
the  body  politic  and  a  living  individual  body,  was  early 
reached ;  and  from  time  to  time  re-appeared  in  literature. 
But  this  perception  was  necessarily  vague  and  more  or 
less  fanciful.  In  the  absence  of  physiological  science,  and 
especially  of  those  comprehensive  generalizations  which  it 
has  but  recently  reached,  it  was  impossible  to  discern  the 
real  parallelisms. 

The  central  idea  of  Plato's  model  Republic,  is  the  cor 


THEORIES    OF   PLATO   A^D    HOBBES.  877 

respondence  between  tlie  parts  of  a  society  and  the  faculties 
of  the  human  mind.  Classifying  these  faculties  under  the 
heads  of  Reason,  Will,  and  Passion,  he  classifies  the  mem- 
bers of  his  ideal  society  under  what  he  regards  as  three 
analogous  heads  : — councillors,  who  are  to  exercise  govern- 
ment; military  or  executive,  who  are  to  fulfil  their  behests; 
and  the  commonalty,  bent  on  gain  and  selfish  gratification. 
In  other  words,  the  ruler,  the  warrior,  and  the  craftsman, 
are,  according  to  him,  the  analogues  of  our  reflective,  voli- 
tional, and  emotional  powers.  Xow  even  were  there  truth 
in  the  imj^lied  assumption  of  a  parallelism  between  the 
structure  of  a  society  and  that  of  a  man,  this  classification 
would  he  indefensible.  It  might  more  truly  be  contended 
that,  as  the  military  power  obeys  the  commands  of  the 
Government,  it  is  the  Government  which  answers  to  the 
Will ;  while  the  military  power  is  simply  an  agency  set  in 
motion  by  it.  Or,  again,  it  might  be  contended  that, 
whereas  the  Will  is  a  product  of  predominant  desires,  to 
which  the  Reason  serves  merely  as  an  eye,  it  is  the  crafts- 
men, who,  according  to  the  alleged  analogy,  ought  to  be 
the  moving  power  of  the  warriors. 

Hobbes  sought  to  establish  a  still  more  definite  parallel- 
ism :  not,  however  between  a  society  and  the  human  mind, 
but  between  a  society  and  the  human  body.  In  the  intro- 
duction to  the  work  in  which  he  developes  this  conception, 
he  says — 

"  For  by  art  is  created  that  great  Leviatha^t  called  a  Com- 
monwealth, or  State,  in  Latin  Civitas,  which  is  but  an  artificial 
man ;  though  of  greater  stature  and  strength  than  the  natural, 
for  whose  protection  and  defence  it  was  intended,  and  in  which 
the  sovereignty  is  an  artificial  soul,  as  giving  life  and  motion  to 
the  whole  body ;  the  magistrates  and  other  officers  of  judica- 
ture and  execution,  artificial  joints  ;  reward  and  piinisJiment,  by 
which,  fastened  to  the  seat  of  the  sovereignty,  every  joint  and 
member  is  moved  to  perform  his  duty,  are  the  nerves,  that  do 


378  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

tlie  same  in  the  body  natural ;  the  wealth  and  riches  of  all  the 
particular  members  are  the  strength;  sains  populi^  the  peopU^A 
safety,  its  business  ;  counsellors,  hj  whom  all  things  needful  for  it 
to  know  are  suggested  unto  it,  are  the  memory  ;  equity  and  laws 
an  artificial  reason  and  will ;  concord,  health;  sedition,  sicJcness ; 
civil  war,  death,''''        ^ 

And  Hobbes  carries  this  comparison  so  far  as  actually 
to  give  a  drawing  of  the  Leviathan — a  vast  human-shaped 
figure,  whose  body  and  limbs  are  made  up  of  multitudes  oi 
men.  Just  noting  that  these  different  analogies  asserted 
by  Plato  and  Hobbes,  serve  to  cancel  each  other  (being,  as 
they  are,  so  completely  at  variance),  we  may  say  that  on 
the  whole  those  of  Hobbes  are  the  more  plausible.  But 
they  are  full  of  inconsistencies.  If  the  sovereignty  is  the 
soul  of  the  body  politic,  how  can  it  be  that  magistrates, 
who  are  a  kind  of  deputy-sovereigns,  should  be  comparable 
to  joints?  Or,  again,  how  can  the  three  mental  functions, 
memory,  reason,  and  will,  be  severally  analogous,  the  first  to 
counsellors,  who  are  a  class  of  public  officers,  and  the  other 
two  to  equity  and  laws,  which  are  not  classes  of  officers, 
but  abstractions  ?  Or,  once  more,  if  magistrates  are  the 
artificial  joints  of  society,  how  can  reward  and  punishment 
be  its  nerves  ?  Its  nerves  must  surely  be  some  class  of 
persons.  Reward  and  punishment  must  in  societies,  as  m 
individuals,  be  conditio7is  of  the  nerves,  and  not  the  nerves 
themselves. 

But  the  chief  errors  of  these  comparisons  made  by  Plato 
and  Hobbes,  lie  much  deeper.  Both  thinkers  assume  that 
the  organization  of  a  society  is  comparable,  not  simply  to 
the  organization  of  a  living  body  in  general,  but  to  the  or- 
ganization of  the  human  body  in  particular.  There  is  no 
warrant  whatever  for  assuming  this.  It  is  in  no  way  im- 
plied by  the  evidence ;  and  is  simply  one  of  those  fancies 
which  we  commonly  find  mixed  up  with  the  truths  of  early 
speculation.     Still  more  erroneous  are  the  two  conceptiongi 


ERRORS  OF  PLATO  AND  HOBBES.         379 

in  this,  that  they  construe  a  society  as  an  artificial  struc- 
ture. Plato's  model  republic — his  ideal  of  a  healthful  body 
politic — is  to  be  consciously  put  together  by  men  ;  just  as 
a  watch  might  be  :  and  Plato  manifestly  thinks  of  societies 
in  general  as  thus  originated.  Quite  specifically  does 
Hobbes  express  this  view.  "  For  by  ar^,"  he  says,  "  ia 
created  that  great  Leviathan  called  a  Commonwealth." 
And  he  even  goes  so  far  as  to  compare  the  supposed 
social  contract,  from  which  a  society  suddenly  originates, 
to  the  creation  of  a  man  by  the  divine  fiat.  Thus  they 
both  fall  into  the  extreme  inconsistency  of  considering  a 
community  as  similar  in  structure  to  a  human  being,  and 
yet  as  produced  in  the  same  way  as  an  artificial  mechanism 
—in  nature,  an  organism ;  in  history,  a  machine. 

Notwithstanding  errors,  however,  these  speculations 
have  considerable  significance.  That  such  analogies,  crude- 
ly as  they  are  thought  out,  should  have  been  alleged  by 
Plato  and  Hobbes  and  many  others,  is  a  reason  for  suspect- 
ing that  some  analogy  exists.  The  untenableness  of  the 
particular  comparisons  above  instanced,  is  no  ground  for 
denying  an  essential  parallelism ;  for  early  ideas  are  usually 
but  vague  adumbrations  of  the  truth.  Lacking  the  great 
generalizations  of  biology,  it  was,  as  w^e  have  said,  im- 
possible to  trace  out  the  real  relations  of  social  organiza- 
tions to  organizations  of  another  order.  We  propose  here 
to  show  what  are  the  analogies  which  modern  science  dis- 
closes to  us. 

Let  us  set  out  by  succinctly  stating  the  points  of 
similarity  and  the  points  of  difference.  Societies  agree 
with  individual  organisms  in  four  conspicuous  peculiari- 
ties : — 

1.  That  commencing  as  small  aggregations,  they  insensi- 
bly augment  in  mass :  some  of  them  eventually  reaching 
ten  thousand  times  what  they  originally  were. 

2.  That  while  at  first  so  simple  in  structure  as  to  be 


380  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

considered  structureless,  they  assume,  in  the  course  of 
their  growth,  a  continually-increasing  complexity  of 
structure. 

3.  That  though  in  their  early,  undeveloped  states, 
there  exists  in  them  scarcely  any  mutual  dependence  of 
parts,  their  parts  gradually  acquire  a  mutual  dependence ; 
which  becomes  at  last  so  great,  that  the  activity  and  life 
of  each  part  is  made  possible  only  by  the  activity  and  life 
of  the  rest. 

4.  That  the  life  and  development  of  a  society  is  inde- 
pendent of,  and  far  more  prolonged  than,  the  life  and  de- 
velopment of  any  of  its  component  units ;  who  are  severally 
born,  grow,  work,  rep/oducCj  and  die,  while  the  body  poli- 
tic composed  of  them  survives  generation  after  generation, 
increasing  in  mass,  completeness  of  structure,  and  fanc- 
tional  activity. 

These  four  parallelisms  will  appear  the  more  significant 
the  more  we  contemplate  them.  While  the  points  speci- 
fied, are  points  in  which  societies  agree  with  individual  or- 
ganisms, they  are  points  in  which  individual  organisms 
agree  with  each  other,  and  disagree  with  all  things  else. 
In  the  course  of  its  existence,  every  plant  and  animal  in- 
creases in  mass,  in  a  way  not  parallelled  by  inorganic  ob 
jects :  even  such  inorganic  objects  as  crystals,  which  arise 
by  growth,  show  us  no  such  definite  relation  between 
grow^th  and  existence  as  organisms  do.  The  orderly  pro- 
gress from  simplicity  to  complexity,  displayed  by  bodies 
politic  in  common  with  all  living  bodies,  is  a  characteristic 
which  distinguishes  living  bodies  from  the  inanimate  bodies 
amid  which  they  move.  That  functional  dependence  of 
parts,  which  is  scarcely  more  manifest  in  animals  or  plants 
than  nations,  has  no  counterpart  elsewhere.  And  in  no 
aggregate  except  an  organic,  or  a  social  one,  is  there  a 
perpetual  removal  and  replacement  of  parts,  joined  with  a 
continued  integrity  of  the  whole. 


ANALOGIES    WITH    THE   VITAL    OKGANISM.  381 

Moreover,  societies  and  organisms  are  not  only  alike  in 
these  peculiarities,  in  which  they  are  unlike  all  other 
things ;  but  the  highest  societies,  like  the  highest  organ 
isms,  exhibit  them  in  the  greatest  degree.  We  see  that 
the  lowest  animals  do  not  increase  to  anything  like  the 
sizes  of  the  higher  ones  ;  and,  similarly,  we  see  that  aborigi- 
nal societies  are  comparatively  limited  in  their  growths. 
In  complexity,  our  large  civilized  nations  as  much  exceed 
primitive  savage  tribes,  as  a  vertebrate  animal  does  a 
zoophyte.  Simple  communities,  like  simple  creatures, 
have  so  little  mutual  dependence  of  parts,  that  subdivision 
or  mutilation  causes  but  little  inconvenience ;  but  from 
complex  communities,  as  from  complex  creatures,  you  can- 
not remove  any  considerable  organ  without  producing 
great  disturbance  or  death  of  the  rest.  And  in  societies 
of  low  type,  as  in  inferior  animals,  the  life  of  the  aggregate, 
often  cut  short  by  division  or  dissolution,  exceeds  in  length 
the  lives  of  the  component  units,  very  far  less  than  in  civi- 
lized communities  and  superior  animals ;  which  outlive 
many  generations  of  their  component  units. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  leading  differences  between 
societies  and  individual  organisms  are  these : — 

1.  That  societies  have  no  specific  external  forms.  This, 
however,  is  a  point  of  contrast  which  loses  much  of  its  im- 
portance, when  we  remember  that  throughout  the  vegetal 
kingdom,  as  well  as  in  some  lower  divisions  of  the  animal 
kingdom,  the  forms  are  often  very  indefinite — definiteness 
being  rather  the  exception  than  the  rule  ;  and  that  they 
are  manifestly  in  part  determined  by  surrounding  physical 
circumstances,  as  the  forms  of  societies  are.  If,  too,  it 
should  eventually  be  shown,  a§  we  believe  it  will,  that  the 
form  of  every  species  of  organism  has  resulted  from  the 
average  play  of  the  external  forces  to  which  it  has  been 
subject  during  its  evolution  as  a  species;  then,  that  the 
external   forms   of  societies   should   depend,    as  they  do, 


382  THE   SOCIAL   OEGAN-ISM. 

on  surroundiDg  conditions,  will  be  a  further  point  of  con* 
munity. 

2.  That  though  the  living  tissue  whereof  an  individual 
organism  consists,  forms  a  continuous  mass,  the  living  ele- 
ments of  a  society  do  not  form  a  continuous  mass ;  but  are 
more  or  less  widely  dispersed  over  some  portion  of  the 
Earth's  surface.  This,  which  at  first  sight  appears  to  be  a 
fundamental  distinction,  is  one  which  yet  to  a  great  extent 
disappears  when  we  contemplate  all  the  facts.  For,  in  the 
lower  divisions  of  the  animal  and  veo;etal  kino-doms,  there 
are  types  of  organization  much  more  nearly  allied,  in  this 
respect,  to  the  organization  of  a  society,  than  might  be  sup- 
posed— types  in  which  the  living  units  essentially  compos- 
ing the  mass,  are  dispersed  through  an  inert  substance, 
that  can  scarcely  be  called  living  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
word.  It  is  thus  with  some  of  the  JProtococci  and  with  the 
N'ostocece,  which  exist  as  cells  imbedded  in  a  viscid  matter. 
It  is  so,  too,  with  the  TJialassicollm — bodies  that  are  made 
up  of  differentiated  parts,  dispersed  through  an  undifferenti- 
ated jelly.  And  througho-ut  considerable  portions  of  their 
bodies,  some  of  the  Acalephm  exhibit  more  or  less  distinct- 
ly this  type  of  structure. 

Indeed,  it  may  be  contended  that  this  is  the  primitive 
form  of  all  organization  ;  seeing  that,  even  in  the  highest 
creatures,  as  in  ourselves,  every  tissue  developes  out  of 
what  physiologists  call  a  blastema — an  unorganized  though 
organizable  substance,  through  which  organic  points  are 
distributed.  Now  this  is  very  much  the  case  with  a 
Bociety.  For  we  must  remember  that  though  the  men 
who  make  up  a  society,  are  physically  separate  and  even 
scattered ;  yet  that  the  surface  over  which  they  are  scatter- 
ed is  not  one  devoid  of  life,  bit  is  covered  by  life  of  a  lower 
order  which  ministers  to  their  life.  The  vegetation  which 
clothes  a  country,  makes  possible  the  animal  life  in  that 
country ;  and  only  through  its  animal  and  vegetal  products 


CONTRASTS   WITH    THE   VITAL    ORGANISM.  383 

can  such  a  country  support  a  human  society.  Hence  the 
members  of  the  body  politic  are  not  to  be  regarded  as 
separated  by  intervals  of  dead  space ;  but  as  diffused 
through  a  space  occupied  by  life  of  a  lower  order.  In  our 
conception  of  a  social  organism,  we  must  include  all  that 
lower  organic  existence  on  which  human  existence,  and 
therefore  social  existence,  dej^ends.  And  when  we  do 
this,  we  see  that  the  citizens  who  make  up  a  community, 
may  be  considered  as  highly  vitalized  units  surrounded 
by  substances  of  lower  vitality,  from  which  they  draw 
their  nutriment :  much  as  in  the  cases  above  instanced. 
Thus,  when  examined,  this  apparent  distinction  in  great 
part  disappears. 

3.  That  while  the  ultimate  living  elements  of  an  indi- 
vidual organism,  are  mostly  fixed  in  their  relative  positions, 
those  of  the  social  organism  are  capable  of  moving  from 
place  to  place,  seems  a  marked  disagreement.  But  here, 
too,  the  disagreement  is  much  less  than  would  be  supposed. 
For  while  citizens  are  locomotive  in  their  private  capacities, 
they  are  fixed  in  their  public  capacities.  As  farmers,  man- 
ufacturers, or  traders,  men  carry  on  their  business  at  the 
same  spots,  often  throughout  their  whole  lives  ;  and  if  they 
go  away  occasionally,  they  leave  behind  others  to  discharge 
their  functions  in  their  absence.  Each  great  centre  of  pro- 
duction, each  manufacturing  town  or  district,  continues 
always  in  the  same  place  ;  and  many  of  the  firms  in  such 
town  or  district,  are  for  generations  carried  on  either  by 
the  descendants  or  successors  of  those  who  founded  them. 
Just  as  in  a  living  body,  the  cells  that  make  up  some  im- 
portant organ,  severally  perform  their  functions  for  a  time 
and  then  disappear,  leaving  others  to  supply  their  places  ; 
80,  in  each  part  of  a  society,  the  organ  remains,  though  the 
persons  who  compose  it  change.  Thus,  in  social  life,  as 
in  the  life  of  an  animal,  the  units  as  well  as  the  larger 
agencies  formed  of  them,   are  in  the  main  stationary  as 


384  THE    SOCIAX   ORGANISM. 

respects  the  j^l^ces  where  they  discharge  then-  duties  and 
obtain  their  sustenance.  And  hence  the  power  of  indivi- 
dual  locomotion  does  not  practically  affect  the  analogy. 

4.  The  last  and  perhaps  the  most  important  distinction, 
is,  that  while  in  the  body  of  an  animal,  only  a  special  tissue 
is  endowed  with  feeling  ;  in  a  society,  all  the  members  are 
endowed  with  feeling.  Even  this  distinction,  however,  is 
by  no  means  a  complete  one.  For  in  some  of  the  lowest 
animals,  characterized  by  the  absence  of  a  nervous  system, 
such  sensitiveness  as  exists  is  possessed  by  all  parts.  It  is 
only  in  the  more  organized  forms  that  feeling  is  monopo- 
lized by  one  class  of  the  vital  elements.  Moreover,  we 
must  remember  that  societies,  too,  are  not  without  a  cer- 
tain differentiation  of  this  kind.  Though  the  units  of  a 
community  are  all  sensitive,  yet  they  are  so  in  unequal  de- 
grees. The  classes  engaged  in  agriculture  and  laborious 
occupations  in  general,  are  much  less  susceptible,  intellec- 
tually and  emotionally,  than  the  rest ;  and  especially  less  so 
than  the  classes  of  highest  mental  culture.  Still,  we  have 
here  a  tolerably  decided  contrast  between  bodies  politic 
and  individual  bodies.  And  it  is  one  which  we  should 
keep  constantly  in  view.  For  it  reminds  us  that  while  in 
individual  bodies,  the  welfare  of  all  other  parts  is  rightly 
subservient  to  the  welfare  of  the  nervous  system,  whose 
pleasurable  or  painful  activities  make  up  the  good  or  evil 
of  life ;  in  bodies  politic,  the  same  thing  does  not  hold,  or 
holds  to  but  a  very  slight  extent.  It  is  well  that  the  lives 
of  all  parts  of  an  animal  should  be  merged  in  the  life  of  the 
whole ;  because  the  w^hole  has  a  corporate  consciousness 
capable  of  happiness  or  misery.  But  it  is  not  so  with  a 
society ;  since  its  living  units  do  not  and  cannot  lose  indi- 
vidual consciousness  ;  and  since  the  community  as  a  whole 
has  no  corporate  consciousness.  And  this  is  an  everlast- 
ing reason  -why  the  welfare  of  citizens  cannot  rightly  be 
sacrificed   to   some   supposed   benefit   of  the   State;   bul 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ANALOGIES.  385 

why,  on  the  other  hand,  the  State  is  to  be  maintained 
solely  for  the  benefit  of  citizens.  The  corporate  life  must 
here  be  subservient  to  the  lives  of  the  parts ;  instead 
of  the  lives  of  the  parts  being  subservient  to  the  3orpo 
rate  life. 

Such,  then,  are  the  points  of  analogy  and  the  points  of 
diflference.  May  we  not  say  that  the  points  of  diiference 
serve  but  to  bring  into  clearer  light  the  points  of  analogy. 
While  comparison  makes  definite  the  obvious  contrasts  be- 
tween organisms  commonly  so  called,  and  the  social  organ- 
ism ;  it  shows  that  even  these  contrasts  are  not  so  decided 
as  was  to  be  expected.  The  indefiniteness  of  form,  the 
discontinuity  of  the  parts,  the  mobility  of  the  parts,  and 
the  universal  sensitiveness,  are  not  only  peculiarities  of  the 
social  organism  which  have  to  be  stated  with  considerable 
qualifications ;  but  they  are  peculiarities  to  which  the  in- 
ferior classes  of  animals  present  approximations.  Thus  we 
find  but  little  to  conflict  with  the  all-important  analogies 
That  societies  slowly  augment  in  mass ;  that  they  progress 
in  complexity  of  structure;  that  at  the  same  time  their  parts 
become  more  mutually  dependent ;  that  their  living  units 
are  removed  and  replaced  without  destroying  their  in- 
tegrity ;  and  further,  that  the  extents  to  which  they  dis- 
play these  peculiarities  are  proportionate  to  their  vital  ac- 
tivities ;  are  traits  that  societies  have  in  common  with 
organic  bodies.  And  these  traits  in  which  they  agree  with 
organic  bodies  and  disagree  wdth  all  other  things — these 
traits  which  in  truth  specially  characterize  organic  bodies, 
entirely  subordinate  the  minor  distinctions :  such  distinc- 
tions being  scarcely  greater  than  those  which  sej^arate  one 
half  of  the  organic  kingdom  from  the  other.  The  princi- 
ples of  organization  are  the  same  ;  and  the  differences  are 
gimply  differences  of  application. 

Here   ending   this  general  survey  of  the  facts  which 
justif}   the   comparison   of  a   society  to   a  living  body ; 
17 


386  THE    SOCIAL   OEGAKISM. 

let  us  look  at  them  in  detail.  We  shall  find  that  the 
parallelism  becomes  the  more  marked  the  more  closely 
it  IS  traced. 

The  lowest  animal  and  vegetal  forms — Protozoa  and 
Protophyta — are  chiefly  inhabitants  of  the  water.  They 
are  minute  bodies,  most  of  which  are  made  individually 
visible  only  by  the  microscope.  All  of  them  are  extremely 
simple  in  structure  ;  and  some  of  them,  as  the  Phhopoch^ 
almost  structureless.  Multiplying,  as  they  ordinarily  do, 
by  the  spontaneous  division  of  their  bodies,  they  produce 
halves,  which  may  either  become  quite  separate  and  move 
away  in  different  directions,  or  may  continue  attached. 
By  the  repetition  of  this  process  of  fission,  aggregations  of 
various  sizes  and  kinds  are  formed.  Among  the  Proto- 
phyta we  have  some  classes,  as  the  PiatoniacecB  and  the 
Yeast-plant,  in  which  the  individuals  may  be  either  sepa- 
rate, or  attached  in  groups  of  two,  three,  four,  or  more  ; 
other  classes  in  which  a  considerable  number  of  individual 
cells  are  united  into  a  thread  {Conferva,  Jfonilia) ;  others 
in  which  they  form  a  net  work  {Hydrodictyon) ;  others  in 
which  they  form  plates  ( Ulvd)  ;  and  others  in  which  they 
form  masses  {Laminaria^  Agaricus)  :  all  which  vegetal 
forms,  having  no  distinction  of  root,  stem,  or  leaf,  are  called 
Thallogens.  Among  the  Protozoa  we  find  parallel  facts. 
Immense  numbers  of  Amceba-like  creatures,  massed  togeth- 
er in  a  framework  of  horny  fibres,  constitute  SjDonge.  In 
the  Porarninifera,  we  see  smaller  groups  of  such  creatures 
arranged  into  more  definite  shapes.  ISTot  only  do  these 
almost  structureless  Protozoa  unite  into  regular  or  irregu- 
lar aggregations  of  various  sizes ;  but  among  some  of  the 
more  organized  ones,  as  the  Vorticellce^  there  are  also  pro- 
duced clusters  of  individuals,  proceeding  from  a  common 
stock.  But  these  little  societies  of  monads,  or  cells,  or 
whatever  else   we  may  call  them,  are  societies  only  in  the 


ANALOGIES   AMONG   INFERIOR   STRUCTURES.  387 

lowest  sense :  there  is  no  subordination  of  parts  among 
them — no  organization.  Each  of  the  component  units 
lives  by  and  for  itself;  neither  giving  nor  receiving  aid. 
There  is  no  mutual  dependence,  save  that  consequent  on 
more  mechanical  union. 

Now  do  we  not  here  discern  analogies  to  the  first 
Btages  of  human  societies  ?  Among  the  lowest  races,  as  the 
Bushmen,  we  find  but  incipient  aggregation :  sometimes 
single  families  ;  sometimes  two  or  three  families  wandering 
about  together.  The  number  of  associated  units  is  small 
and  variable :  and  their  union  inconstant.  No  division  of 
labour  exists  except  between  the  sexes ;  and  the  only  kind 
of  mutual  aid  is  that  of  joint  attack  or  defence.  We  see 
nothing  beyond  an  undifferentiated  group  of  individuals, 
forming  the  germ  of  a  society  ;  just  as  in  the  homogeneous 
groups  of  cells  above  described,  we  see  only  the  initial  stage 
of  animal  and  vegetal  organization. 

The  comparison  may  now  be  carried  a  step  higher.  In 
the  vegetal  kingdom  we  pass  from  the  Thallogens^  consist- 
ing of  mere  masses  of  similar  cells,  to  the  Acrogens,  in 
which  the  cells  are  not  similar  throughout  the  whole  mass ; 
but  are  here  aggregated  into  a  structure  serving  as  leaf, 
and  there  into  a  structure  serving  as  root :  tlius  forming  a 
whole  in  which  there  is  a  certain  subdivision  of  functions 
among  the  units ;  and  therefore  a  certain  mutual  dependence. 
In  the  animal  kingdom  we  find  analogous  progress.  From 
mere  unorganized  groups  of  cells,  or  cell-like  bodies,  we 
ascend  to  groups  of  such  cells  arranged  into  parts  that 
have  different  duties.  The  common  Polype,  from  whose 
substance  may  be  separated  individual  cells  w^hich  exhibit, 
when  detached,  appearances  and  movements  like  those  of 
the  solitary  Amceha^  illustrates  this  stage.  The  compo- 
nent units,  though  still  showing  great  community  of  char- 
acter, assume  somewhat  diverse  functions  in  the  skin,  in 
the  internal  surface,  and  in  the  tentacles.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  "  physiological  division  of  labour.'  ' 


3S8  THE   SOCIAL    ORGANISM. 

Turning  to  societies,  we  find  these  stages  paralleled  in  the 
majority  of  aboriginal  tribes.     When,  instead  of  such  small 
variable  groups  as  are  formed  by  Bushmen,  we  come  to 
the  larger  and  more  permanent  groujos  formed  by  savages 
not  quite  so  low,  we  begin  to  find  traces  of  social  structure. 
Though  industrial  organization  scarcely  shows  itself,  except 
in  the  different  occupations  of  the  sexes  ;  yet  there  is  always 
more  or  less  of  governmental  organization.     While  all  the 
men  are  warriors  and  hunters,  only  a  part  of  them  are  in- 
cluded in  the  council  of  chiefs ;  and  in  this  council  of  chiefs 
some  one  has  commonly  suj^reme  authority.     There  is  thus 
a  certain  distinction  of  classes  and  powers ;    and  through 
this  slight  specialization  of  functions,  is  effected  a  rude  co- 
operation among  the  increasing  mass  of   individuals,  when- 
ever the  society  has  to  act  in  its  corporate  capacity.      Be- 
yond this  analogy  in  the  slight  extent  to  which  organiza- 
tion is  carried,  there  is  analogy  in  the  indefiniteness  of   the 
organization.     In  the  Mydra^  the  respective  parts  of  the 
creature's    substance    have    many  functions    in    common. 
They  are  all  contractile ;  omitting  the  tentacles,  the  whole 
of  the  external  surface  can  give  origin   to   young  hydrce  ; 
and  when  turned  inside  out,  stomach  performs  the  duties 
of  skin,  and  skin  the  duties  of  stomach.     In  aboriginal  so- 
cieties such  differentiations  as  exist  are  similarly  imperfect. 
Notwithstanding  distinctions  of  rank,  all  persons  maintain 
themselves  by  their  own  exertions.     Not  only  do  the  head 
men  of  the  tribe,  in  common  with  the  rest,  build  their  own 
huts,  make  their  own  weapons,  kill  their  own  food ;    but 
the  chief  does  the  like.     Moreover,  in  the  rudest  of  these 
tribes,  such  governmental  organization  as  exists  is  very  in- 
constant.    It  is  frequently  changed  by  violence  or  treach- 
ery, and  the  function  of  ruhng  assumed  by  other  members 
of  the  community.     Thus  between  the  rudest  societies  and 
some  of  the  lowest  forms  of  animal  life  there  is  analogy 
aUke  in  the  slight  extent  to  which  organization  is  carried, 


PARALLEL   PROCESSES   OF   MULTIPLICATION.  389 

m  the  indefiniteness  of  this  organization,  and  in  its  want  of 
6xity. 

A  further  complication  of  the  analogy  is  at  hand. 
From  the  aggregation  of  units  into  organized  groups,  we 
pass  to  the  multiplication  of  such  groups,  and  their  coales- 
cence into  compound  groups.  The  Hydra^  when  it  has 
reached  a  certain  bulk,  puts  forth  from  its  surface  a  tud, 
which,  growing  and  gradually  assuming  the  form  of  the 
parent,  finally  becomes  detached ;  and  by  this  process  of 
gemmation,  the  creature  peoples  the  adjacent  water  wath 
others  like  itself.  A  parallel  process  is  seen  in  the  multipli- 
cation of  those  lowly-organized  tribes  above  described. 
One  of  them  having  increased  to  a  size  that  is  either  too 
great  for  co-ordination  under  so  rude  a  structure,  or  else 
that  is  greater  than  the  surrounding  country  can  supply 
with  game  and  other  wild  food,  there  arises  a  tendency  to 
divide  ;  and  as  in  such  communities  there  are  ever  occur- 
ring quarrels,  jealousies,  and  other  causes  of  division,  there 
soon  comes  an  occasion  on  which  a  part  of  the  tribe  sepa- 
rates under  the  leadership  of  some  subordinate  chief,  and 
migrates.  This  process  being  from  time  to  time  repeated, 
an  extensive  region  is  at  length  occupied  with  numerous 
separate  tribes  descended  from  a  common  ancestry.  The 
analogy  by  no  means  ends  here.  Though  in  the  common 
Hydra^  the  young  ones  that  bud  out  from  the  parent  soon 
become  detached  and  independent ;  yet  throughout  the 
rest  of  the  class  Hydrozoa^  to  which  this  creature  belongs, 
the  like  does  not  generally  happen.  The  successive  indi- 
viduals thus  developed  continue  attached ;  give  origin  to 
other  such  individuals  which  also  continue  attached ;  and 
60  there  results  a  compound  animal.  As  in  the  Hydra 
itself,  we  find  an  aggregation  of  units  wdiich,  considered 
separately,  are  akin  to  the  lowest  Protozoa ;  so  here,  in  a 
Zoophyte^  we  find  an  aggregation  of  such  aggregations. 
The  like  is  also  seen  throughout  the  extensive  family  of 


390  THE    SOCIAL    ORG AK  ISM. 

Pohjzoa  or  Molluscoida.  The  Ascidian  Mollusks,  too,  in 
their  many  varied  forms,  show  us  the  same  thing  :  exhibit- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  various  degrees  of  union  subsisting 
among  the  component  individuals.  For  while  in  the  Salpa^ 
the  component  individuals  adhere  so  slightly  that  a  blow  on 
the  vessel  of  water  in  which  they  are  floating  will  separate 
them  ;  in  the  Botryllidoe  there  exists  a  vascular  connexion 
between  them,  and  a  common  circulation. 

Now  in  these  various  forms  and  degrees  of  aggregation, 
may  we  not  see  paralleled  the  union  of  groups  of  connate 
tribes  into  nations  ?  Though  in  regions  where  circum- 
stances permit,  the  separate  tribes  descended  from  some 
original  tribe,  migrate  in  all  directions,  and  become  far  re- 
moved and  quite  separate  ;  yet,  in  other  cases,  where  the 
territory  presents  barriers  to  distant  migration,  this  does 
not  happen  :  the  small  kindred  communities  are  held  in 
closer  contact,  and  eventually  become  more  or  less  united 
into  a  nation.  The  contrast  between  the  tribes  of  Ameri- 
can Indians  and  the  Scottish  clans,  illustrates  this.  And  a 
glance  at  our  own  early  history,  or  the  early  histories  of 
continental  nations,  shows  this  fusion  of  small  simple  com- 
munities taking  place  in  various  ways  and  to  various  extents. 
As  says  M.  Guizot,  in  his  history  of  "  The  Origin  of  Rep- 
resentative Government," — 

"  By  degrees,  in  the  midst  of  the  chaos  of  the  rising  society, 
small  aggregations  are  formed  which  feel  the  want  of  alliance  and 
union  with  each  other.  .  .  .  Soon  inequality  of  strength  is 
displayed  among  neighbouring  aggregations.  The  strong  tend  to 
subjugate  the  weak,  and  usurp  at  first  the  rights  of  taxation  and 
mihtary  service.  Thus  political  authority  leaves  the  aggregations 
which  first  instituted  it,  to  take  a  wider  range." 

That  is  to  say,  the  small  tribes,  clans,  or  feudal  unions, 
sprung  mostly  from  a  common  stock,  and  long  held  in  con* 
tact  as  occupants  of  adjacent  lands,  gradually  get  united  in 
otber  ways  than  by  mere  adhesion  of  race  and  proximity. 


8IMILAEITY   OF   GROUPINGS.  391 

A  further  series  of  changes  begins  now  to  take  place ;  to 
<vhich,  as  before,  we  shall  find  analogies  in  individual  or- 
ganisms. Returning  again  to  the  Hydrozoa^  we  observe 
that  in  the  simplest  of  the  compound  forms,  the  connected 
individuals  developed  from  a  common  stock,  are  alike  in 
structure,  and  perform  like  functions :  with  the  exception, 
indeed,  that  here  and  there  a  bud,  instead  of  developing 
into  a  stomach,  mouth,  and  tentacles,  becomes  an  egg-sac. 
But  w^ith  the  oceanic  Hydrozoa^  this  is  by  no  means  the 
case.  In  the  Calycophoridoe^  some  of  the  polypes  growing 
from  the  common  germ,  become  developed  and  modified 
into  large,  long,  sack-like  bodies,  which  by  their  rhythmi- 
cal contractions  move  through  the  water,  dragging  the 
community  of  polypes  after  them.  In  the  Physophoridae., 
a  variety  of  organs  similarly  arise  by  transformation  of  the 
budding  polypes ;  so  that  in  creatures  like  the  Physalia^ 
commonly  known  as  the  "  Portuguese  Man-of-war,"  instead 
of  that  tree-like  group  of  similar  individuals  forming  the 
original  type  of  the  class,  we  have  a  complex  mass  of  unlike 
parts  fulfilling  unlike  duties.  As  an  individual  Hydra  may 
be  regarded  as  a  group  of  Protozoa^  which  have  become 
partially  metamorphosed  into  difierent  organs ;  so  a  Phy- 
salia  is,  morphologically  considered,  a  grou^)  of  HijdrcB  of 
which  the  individuals  have  been  variously  transformed  to 
fit  them  for  various  functions. 

This  differentiation  upon  differentiation,  is  just  what 
takes  place  in  the  evolution  of  a  civilized  society.  We  ob- 
served how,  in  the  small  communities  first  formed,  there 
arises  a  certain  simple  political  organization — there  is  a 
partial  separation  of  classes  having  different  duties.  And 
now  we  have  to  observe  how,  in  a  nation  formed  by  the 
fusion  of  such  small  communities,  the  several  sections,  at 
first  alike  in  structures  and  modes  of  activity,  gradually 
become  unlike  in  both — gradually  become  mutually-de- 
pendent parts,  diverse  in  their  natures  and  functions. 


892  THE   SOCIAL    OEGAJSriSM. 

The  doctrine  of  the  progressive  division  of  labour,  tc 
which  we  are  here  introduced,  is  familiar  to  all  readers. 
And  further,  the  analogy  between  the  economical  division 
of  labour  and  the  "  physiological  division  of  labour,"  is  so 
strikino;  as  lono;  since  to  have  drawn  the  attention  of  sci* 
entific  naturalists :  so  striking,  indeed,  that  the  expression 
"  physiological  division  of  labour,"  has  been  suggested  by 
it.  It  is  not  needful,  therefore,  that  we  should  treat  this 
part  of  our  subject  in  great  detail.  We  shall  content  our- 
selves with  noting  a  few  general  and  significant  facts,  not 
manifest  on  a  first  inspection. 

Throughout  the  whole  animal  kingdom,  from  the  Coe- 
Unterata  upwards,  the  first  stage  of  evolution  is  the  same. 
Equally  in  the  germ  of  a  polype  and  in  the  human  ovum, 
the  aggregated  mass  of  cells  out  of  which  the  creature  is 
to  arise,  gives  origin  to  a  perij^heral  layer  of  cells,  slightly 
differing  from  the  rest  which  they  include  ;  and  this  layer 
subsequently  divides  into  two — the  inner,  lying  in  contact 
with  the  included  yelk,  being  called  the  mucous  layer,  and 
the  outer,  exposed  to  surrounding  agencies,  being  called 
the  serous  layer :  or,  in  the  terms  used  by  Prof  Huxley,  in 
describing  the  development  of  the  Hydrozoa — the  endo- 
derm  and  ectoderm.  This  primary  division  marks  out  a 
fundamental  contrast  of  parts  in  the  future  organism. 
From  the  mucous  layer,  or  endoderm,  is  developed  the 
apparatus  of  nutrition  ;  while  from  the  serous  layer,  or  ec- 
toderm, is  developed  the  apparatus  of  external  action. 
Out  of  the  one  arise  the  organs  by  which  food  is  prepared 
and  absorbed,  oxygen  imbibed,  and  blood  i^urified ;  while 
out  of  the  other  arise  the  nervous,  muscular,  and  osseous 
systems,  by  whose  combined  actions  the  movements  of  the 
body  as  a  whole  are  effected.  Though  this  is  not  a  rigor- 
ously-correct distinction,  seeing  that  some  organs  involve 
both  of  these  primitive  membranes,  yet  high  authorities 
agree  in  stating  it  as  a  broad  general  distinction. 


ITS   PRIMAEY   DIFFERENTIATIONS.  393 

Well,  in  the  evolution  of  a  society,  we  see  a  primary 
differentiation  of  analogous  kind  ;  which  similarly  imderliea 
the  whole  future  structure.  As  already  pointed  out,  the 
only  manifest  contrast  of  parts  in  primitive  societies,  is  that 
between  the  governing  and  the  governed.  In  the  least  or- 
ganized tribes,  the  council  of  chiefs  may  be  a  body  of  men 
distinguished  simply  by  greater  courage  or  experience.  In 
more  organized  tribes,  the  chief-class  is  definitely  separated 
from  the  lower  class,  and  often  regarded  as  difierent  in  na- 
ture— sometimes  as  god-descended.  And  later,  we  find 
these  two  becoming  respectively  freemen  and  slaves,  or 
nobles  and  serfs.  A  glance  at  their  respective  functions, 
makes  it  obvious  that  the  great  divisions  thus  early  formed, 
stand  to  each  other  in  a  relation  similar  to  that  in  which 
the  primaiy  divisions  of  the  embryo  stand  to  each  other. 
For,  from  its  first  appearance,  the  class  of  chiefs  is  that  by 
which  the  external  acts  of  the  society  are  controlled :  alike 
in  war,  in  negotiation,  and  in  migration.  Afterwards, 
while  the  upper  class  grows  distinct  from  the  lower,  and  at 
the  same  time  becomes  more  and  more  exclusively  regula- 
tive and  defensive  in  its  functions,  aUke  in  the  persons  of 
kings  and  subordinate  rulers,  priests,  and  mihtary  leaders  ; 
the  inferior  class  becomes  more  and  more  exclusively  occu- 
pied in  providing  the  necessaries  of  life  for  the  community 
at  large.  From  the  soil,  with  which  it  comes  in  most  di- 
rect contact,  the  mass  of  the  people  takes  up  and  prepares 
for  use,  the  food  and  such  rude  articles  of  manufacture  as 
are  known ;  while  the  overlying  mass  of  superior  men, 
maintained  by  the  working  population,  deals  with  circum- 
stances external  to  the  community — circumstances  with 
which,  by  position,  it  is  more  immediately  concerned. 
Ceasing  by-and-by  to  have  any  knowledge  of,  or  power 
over,  the  concerns  of  the  society  as  a  whole,  the  serf-class 
becomes  devoted  to  the  processes  of  alimentation;  while 
the  noble  class,  ceasing  to  take  any  part  in  the  processes  of 


394  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

alimentation,  becomes  devoted  to  the  co-ordinated  move* 
ments  of  the  entire  body  politic. 

Equally  remarkable  is  a  further  analogy  of  like  kind. 
After  the  mucous  and  serous  layers  of  the  embryo  have 
separated,  there  presently  arises  between  the  two,  a  thirds 
known  to  ^physiologists  as  the  vascular  layer — a  layer  out 
of  which  are  developed  the  chief  blood-vessels.  The  mu- 
cous layer  absorbs  nutriment  from  the  mass  of  yelk  it  en- 
closes ;  this  nutriment  has  to  be  transferred  to  the  overly- 
ing serous  layer,  out  of  which  the  nervo-muscular  system 
is  being  developed  ;  and  between  the  two  arises  a  vascular 
system  by  which  the  transfer  is  effected — a  system  of  ves- 
sels which  continues  ever  after  to  be  the  transferrer  of  nu- 
triment from  the  places  where  it  is  absorbed  and  prepared, 
to  the  places  where  it  is  needed  for  growth  and  repair. 
Well,  may  we  not  trace  a  parallel  step  in  social  progress  ? 

Between  the  governing  and  the  governed,  there  at  first 
exists  no  intermediate  class  ;  and  even  in  some  societies 
that  have  reached  considerable  sizes,  there  are  scarcely  any 
but  the  nobles  and  their  kindred  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
serfs  on  the  other :  the  social  structure  being  such,  that  the 
transfer  of  commodities  takes  place  directly  from  slaves  to 
their  masters.  But  in  societies  of  a  higher  type,  there 
grows  up  between  these  two  primitive  classes,  another — 
the  trading  or  middle  class.  Equally,  at  first  as  now,  we 
may  see  that,  speaking  generally,  this  middle  class  is  the 
analogue  of  the  middle  layer  in  the  embryo.  For  all  tra- 
ders are  essentially  distributors.  Whether  they  be  whole- 
sale dealers,  who  collect  into  large  masses  the  commodities 
of  various  jDroducers ;  or  whether  they  be  retailers,  who 
divide  out  to  those  who  want  them,  the  masses  of  com- 
modities thus  collected  together;  all  mercantile  men  are 
agents  of  transfer  from  the  places  where  things  are  pro- 
duced to  the  places  where  they  are  consumed.  Thus  the 
distributing  apparatus  of  a  society,  answers  to  the  distribu 


ANA-LOGOUS   DISTRIBUTION   OF   MECHANISMS.  395 

ting  apparatus  of  a  living  body ;  not  only  in  its  functions, 
but  in  its  intermediate  origin  and  subsequent  position,  and 
in  the  time  of  its  appearance. 

Without  enumerating  the  minor  differentiations  which 
these  three  great  classes  afterwards  undergo,  we  will 
merely  note  that  throughout,  they  follow  the  same  general 
law  with  the  differentiations  of  an  individual  organism.  In 
a  society,  as  in  a  rudimentary  animal,  we  have  seen  that  the 
most  general  and  broadly  contrasted  divisions  are  the  first 
to  make  their  appearance  ;  and  of  the  subdivisions  it  con- 
tinues true  in  both  cases,  that  they  arise  in  the  order  of  de- 
creasing generality. 

Let  us  observe  next,  that  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  oth- 
er, the  specializations  are  at  first  very  incomplete  ;  and  be- 
come more  complete  as  organization  progresses.  We  saw 
that  in  primitive  tribes,  as  in  the  simplest  animals,  there 
remains  much  community  of  function  between  the  parts 
that  are  nominally  different — that,  for  instance,  the  class  of 
chiefs  long  remain  industrially  the  same  as  the  inferior 
class ;  just  as  in  a  Hydra^  the  property  of  contractility  is 
possessed  by  the  units  of  the  endoderm  as  well  as  by  those 
of  the  ectoderm.  We  noted  also  how,  as  the  society  ad- 
vanced, the  two  great  primitive  classes  partook  less  and 
less  of  each  other's  functions.  And  we  have  here  to  re- 
mark, that  all  subsequent  specializations  are  at  first  vague, 
and  gradually  become  distinct.  ''  In  the  infancy  of  socie- 
ty," says  M.  Guizot,  "  everything  is  confused  and  uncer- 
tain ;  there  is  as  yet  no  fixed  and  precise  line  of  demarca- 
tion between  the  different  powers  in  a  state."  *'  Origi- 
nally kings  lived  like  other  landowners,  on  the  incomes  de- 
rived from  their  own  private  estates."  Nobles  ^\iere  petty 
kings  ;  and  kings  only  the  most  powerful  nobles.  Bishops 
were  feudal  lords  and  military  leaders.  The  right  of  coin- 
ing money  was  possessed  by  powerful  subjects,  and  by  the 
Church,  as  well  as  by  the  king.     Every  leading  man  exer- 


396  THE   SOCIAL   OKGAinSM. 

cised  alike  the  functions  of  landowner,  farmer,  soldier, 
statesman,  judge.  Retainers  were  now  soldiers,  and  now 
labourers,  as  the  day  required.  But  by  degrees  the 
Church  has  lost  all  civil  jurisdiction ;  the  State  has  exer- 
cised less  and  less  control  over  religious  teaching  ;  the  mil- 
itary class  has  grown  a  distinct  one  ;  handicrafts  have  con- 
centrated in  towns ;  and  the  spinning-wheels  of  scattered 
farmhouses,  have  disappeared  before  the  machinery  of  man- 
ufacturing districts.  Not  only  is  all  progress  from  the  ho- 
mogeneous to  the  heterogeneous ;  but  at  the  same  time  it 
is  from  the  indefinite  to  the  definite. 

Another  fact  which  should  not  be  passed  over,  is  that  in 
the  evolution  of  a  large  society  out  of  an  aggregation  of  small 
ones,  there  is  a  gradual  obliteration  of  the  original  Hues  of 
separation — a  change  to  which,  also,  we  may  see  analogies 
in  living  bodies.  Throughout  the  sub-kingdom  A?i7itflosa, 
this  is  clearly  and  variously  illustrated.  Among  the  lower 
types  of  this  sub-kingdom,  the  body  consists  of  numerous 
segments  that  are  alike  in  nearly  every  particular.  Each 
has  its  external  ring ;  its  pair  of  legs,  if  the  creature  has 
legs ;  its  equal  portion  of  intestines,  or  else  its  separate 
stomach ;  its  equal  portion  of  the  great  blood-vessel,  or,  in 
some  cases,  its  separate  heart ;  its  equal  portion  of  the  ner- 
vous cord,  and,  perhaps,  its  separate  pair  of  ganglia.  But 
in  the  highest  types,  as  in  the  large  Crustacea,  many  of 
the  segments  are  completely  fused  together  ;  and  the  internal 
organs  are  no  longer  uniformly  repeated  in  all  the  segments. 
Now  the  segments  of  which  nations  at  first  consist,  lose  their 
separate  external  and  internal  structures  in  a  similar  manner. 
In  feudal  times,  the  minor  communities  governed  by  feudal 
lords,  were  severally  organized  in  the  same  rude  way ;  and 
were  held  together  only  by  the  fealty  of  their  respective 
rulers  to  some  suzerain.  But  along  with  the  growth  of  a 
central  power,  the  demarcations  of  these  local  communities 
disappeared  ;  and  their  separate  organizations  merged  into 


COALESCENCE   OF   PARTS.  397 

the  general  organization.  The  like  is  seen  on  a  larger  scale 
in  the  fusion  of  England,  "Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland ;  and, 
on  the  Continent,  in  the  coalescence  of  provinces  into  king- 
doms. Even  in  the  disappearance  of  law-made  divisions, 
the  process  is  analogous.  Among  the  Anglo-Saxons,  Eng- 
land  was  divided  into  tithings,  hundreds,  and  counties : 
there  were  county  courts,  courts  of  hundred,  and  courts  of 
tithing.  The  courts  of  tithing  disappeared  first ;  then  the 
courts  of  hundred,  which  have,  however,  left  traces ;  while 
the  county-jurisdiction  still  exists. 

But  chiefly  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  there  eventually  grows 
up  an  organization  which  has  no  reference  to  these  original 
divisions,  but  traverses  them  in  various  directions,  as  is  the 
case  in  creatures  belonging  to  the  sub-kingdom  just  named  ; 
and,  further,  that  in  both  cases  it  is  the  sustaining  organiza- 
tion which  thus  traverses  old  boundaries,  while  in  both 
cases  it  is  the  governmental,  or  co-ordinating  organization 
in  which  the  original  boundaries  continue  traceable.  Thus, 
in  the  highest  Aimulosa^  the  exo-skeleton  and  the  muscu- 
lar system,  never  lose  all  traces  of  their  primitive  segmen- 
tation ;  but  throughout  a  great  part  of  the  body,  the  con- 
tained viscera  do  not  in  the  least  conform  to  the  external 
divisions.  Similarly,  with  a  nation,  we  see  that  while,  for 
governmental  purposes,  such  divisions  as  counties  and  par- 
ishes still  exist,  the  structure  developed  for  carrying  on  the 
nutrition  of  society,  wholly  ignores  these  boundaries:  our 
great  cotton-manufacture  spreads  out  of  Lancashire  into 
North  Derbyshire ;  Leicestershire  and  Nottinghamshire 
have  long  divided  the  stocking-trade  between  them  ;  one 
great  centre  for  the  production  of  iron  and  iron-goods,  in- 
cludes parts  of  Warwickshire,  Staffordshire,  Worcestershire; 
and  those  various  speciahzations  of  agriculture  which  have 
made  different  parts  of  England  noted  for  different  pro- 
ducts, show  no  more  respect  to  county-boundaries  than 
do  our  growing  towns  to  the  boundaries  of  parishes. 


398  THE   SOCIAL   OEGAlSnSM. 

If,  after  contemplating  these  analogies  of  structure,  we 
inquire  whether  there  are  any  such  analogies  between  the 
processes  of  organic  change,  the  answer  is — yes.  The 
causes  which  lead  to  increase  of  bulk  in  any  part  of  the 
body  politic,  are  of  Hke  nature  with  those  which  lead  to 
increase  of  bulk  in  any  part  of  an  individual  body.  In 
both  cases  the  antecedent  is  greater  functional  activity,  con- 
sequent on  greater  demand.  Each  limb,  viscus,  gland,  or 
other  member  of  an  animal,  is  developed  by  exercise — by 
actively  discharging  the  duties  which  the  body  at  large  re- 
quires of  it ;  and  similarly,  any  class  of  labourers  or  arti- 
sans, any  manufacturing  centre,  or  any  official  agency,  begins 
to  enlarge  when  the  community  devolves  on  it  an  increase 
of  work.  In  each  case,  too,  growth  has  its  conditions  and 
its  limits.  That  any  organ  in  a  living  being  may  grow 
by  exercise,  there  needs  a  due  supply  of  blood :  all  ac- 
tion implies  waste;  blood  brings  the  materials  for  re- 
pair ;  and  before  there  can  be  growth,  the  quantity  of 
blood  supplied  must  be  more  than  that  requisite  for  re- 
pair. 

So  is  it  in  a  society.  If  to  some  district  which  elabor- 
ates for  the  community  particular  commodities — say  the 
woollens  of  Yorkshire — there  comes  an  augmented  demand ; 
and  if,  in  fulfilment  of  this  demand,  a  certain  expenditure 
and  wear  of  the  manufacturing  organization  are  incurred  ; 
and  if,  in  payment  for  the  extra  supply  of  woollens  sent 
away,  there  comes  back  only  such  quantity  of  commodities 
as  replaces  the  expenditure,  and  makes  good  the  waste  of 
life  and  machinery  ;  there  can  clearly  be  no  growth.  That 
there  may  be  growth,  the  commodities  obtained  in  return 
must  be  more  than  sufficient  for  these  ends ;  and  just  in 
proportion  as  the  surplus  is  great  will  the  growth  be  rapid. 
Whence  it  is  manifest  that  what  in  commercial  affiiirs  we 
callpi'ojit,  answers  to  the  excess  of  nutrition  over  waste  in 
a  living  body.      Moreover,  in  both  cases,  when  the  func 


PAEALLEL   CONDITIONS    OF   NUTRITION.  399 

lional  activity  is  high  and  the  nutrition  defective,  there  re- 
sults not  growth  but  decay.  If  in  an  animal,  any  organ  is 
worked  so  hard  that  the  channels  which  bring  blood  cannot 
furnish  enough  for  repair,  the  organ  dwindles  ;  and  if  in  the 
body  politic,  some  part  has  been  stimulated  into  great  pro- 
ductivity, and  cannot  afterwards  get  paid  for  all  its  produce, 
certain  of  its  members  become  bankrupt,  and  it  decreases 
in  size. 

One  more  parallelism  to  be  here  noted,  is,  that  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  social  organism,  like  the  different  parts 
of  an  individual  organism,  compete  for  nutriment;  and 
severally  obtain  more  or  less  of  it  according  as  they  are 
discharging  more  or  less  duty.  If  a  man's  brain  be  over- 
excited, it  will  abstract  blood  from  his  viscera  and  stop 
digestion ;  or  digestion  actively  going  on,  will  so  affect  tne 
circulation  through  the  brain  as  to  cause  drowsiness ;  or 
great  muscular  exertion  will  determine  such  a  quantity  of 
blood  to  the  limbs,  as  to  arrest  digestion  or  cerebral  action, 
as  the  case  may  be.  So,  Ukewise,  in  a  society,  it  frequent- 
ly happens  that  great  activity  in  some  one  direction,  causes 
partial  arrests  of  activity  elsewhere,  by  abstracting  capital, 
that  is  commodities  :  as  instance  the  way  in  which  the  sud- 
den development  of  our  railway-system  hampered  commer- 
cial operations  ;  or  the  way  in  which  the  raising  of  a  large 
military  force  temporarily  stops  the  growth  of  leading  in- 
dustries. 

The  last  few  paragraphs  introduce  the  next  division  of 
our  subject.  Almost  unawares  we  have  come  upon  the 
analogy  which  exists  between  the  blood  of  a  living  body, 
and  the  circulating  mass  of  commodities  in  the  body  politic. 
We  have  now  to  trace  out  this  analogy  from  its  simplest  to 
its  most  complex  manifestations. 

In  the  lowest  animals  there  exists  no  blood  properly  so 
called.     Through  the  small  aggregation  of  cells  which  make 


400  THE    SOCIAL    ORGANISM 

up  a  Hydra^  permeate  the  juices  absorbed  from  the  food. 
There  is  no  apparatus  for  elaborating  a  concentrated  and 
purified  nutriment,  and  distributing  it  among  the  compo- 
nent units ;  but  these  component  units  directly  imbibe  the 
unprepared  nutriment,  either  from  the  digestive  cavity  or 
from  each  other.  May  we  not  say  that  this  is  what  takes 
place  in  an  aboriginal  tribe  ?  All  its  members  severally 
obtain  for  themselves  the  necessaries  of  life  in  their  crude 
states ;  and  severally  prepare  them  for  their  owti  uses  as 
well  as  they  can.  When  there  arises  a  decided  difierentia- 
tion  between  the  governing  and  the  governed,  some 
amount  of  transfer  begins  between  those  inferior  indi- 
viduals, who,  as  workers,  come  directly  in  contact  with  the 
products  of  the  earth,  and  those  superior  ones  who  exer- 
cise the  higher  functions — a  transfer  parallel  to  that  which 
accompanies  the  differentiation  of  the  ectoderm  from  the 
endoderm.  In  t]#e  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  however,  it 
is  a  transfer  of  products  that  are  little  if  at  all  prepared  ; 
and  takes  place  directly  from  the  unit  which  obtains  to 
the  unit  which  consumes,  without  entering  into  any  general 
current. 

Passing  to  larger  organisms — individual  and  social — we 
find  the  first  advance  upon  this  arrangement.  Where,  as 
among  the  compound  Hydrozoa^  there  is  an  aggregation 
of  many  such  primitive  groups  as  form  HydrcB ;  or  where, 
as  in  a  Medusa^  one  of  these  groups  has  become  of  great 
size ;  there  exist  rude  channels  running  throughout  the 
substance  of  the  body  :  not  however,  channels  for  the  con- 
veyance of  prepared  nutriment,  but  mere  prolongations  of 
the  digestive  cavity,  through  which  the  crude  chyle-aque- 
ous fluid  reaches  the  remoter  parts,  and  is  moved  back- 
wards and  forwards  by  the  creature's  contractions.  Do  we 
not  find  in  some  of  the  more  advanced  primitive  communi- 
ties, an  analogous  condition  ?  When  the  men,  partially  or 
fully  united  into  one  society,  become  numerous — when,  as 


ANALOGY    OF   THE    LOWEE   CrRCULATIONS.  401 

usually  happens,  they  cover  a  surface  of  country  not  every- 
where alike  in  its  products — when,  more  especially,  there 
arise  considerable  classes  that  are  not  industrial;  some  pro- 
cess of  exchange  and  distribution  inevitably  arises.  Trav- 
ersing here  and  there  the  earth's  surface,  covered  by  that 
vegetation  on  which  human  life  depends,  and  in  which,  a8 
we  say,  the  units  of  a  society  are  imbedded,  there  are 
formed  indefinite  paths,  along  which  some  of  the  necessa- 
ries of  life  occasionally  pass,  to  be  bartered  for  others 
which  presently  come  back  along  the  same  channels.  Note, 
however,  that  at  first  little  else  but  crude  commodities  are 
thus  transferred — fruits,  fish,  pigs  or  cattle,  skins,  etc. : 
there  are  few,  if  any,  manufactured  products  or  articles 
prepared  for  consumption.  And  note  further,  that  such 
distribution  of  these  unprepared  necessaries  of  life  as  takes 
place,  is  but  occasional — goes  on  with  a  certain  slow,  irregu- 
lar rhythm. 

Further  progress  in  the  elaboration  and  distribution  of 
nutriment,  or  of  commodities,  is  a  necessary  accompani- 
ment of  further  difiTerentiation  of  functions  in  the  indivi^ 
dual  body  or  in  the  body  politic.  As  fast  as  each  organ  of 
a  living  animal  becomes  confined  to  a  special  action,  it  must 
become  dependent  on  the  rest  for  all  those  materials  which 
its  position  and  duty  do  not  permit  it  to  obtain  for  itself; 
in  the  same  way  that,  as  fast  as  each  particular  class  of  a 
community  becomes  exclusively  occupied  in  producing  its 
own  commodity,  it  must  become  dependent  on  the  rest  foi 
the  Other  commodities  it  needs.  And,  simultaneously,  a 
more  perfectly-elaborated  blood  will  result  from  a  highly- 
specialized  group  of  nutritive  organs,  severally  adapted  to 
prepare  its  difierent  elements ;  in  the  same  way  that  the 
stream  of  commodities  circulating  throughout  a  society, 
will  be  of  superior  quality  in  proportion  to  the  greater  di- 
vision of  labour  among  the  workers.  Observe,  also,  that 
in  either  case  the  circulating  mass  of  nutritive  materials, 


402  THE    SOCIAL    ORGANISM. 

besides  coming  gradually  to  consist  of  better  ingredients, 
also  grows  more  complex.  An  increase  in  the  number  of 
the  unlike  organs  which  add  to  the  blood  their  waste  mat- 
ters, and  demand  from  it  the  different  materials  they  sev- 
erally need,  imj^lies  a  blood  more  heterogeneous  in  compo- 
sition— an  a.  2^io7'i  conclusion  which,  according  to  Dr. 
Williams,  is  inductively  confirmed  by  examination  of  the 
blood  throughout  the  various  grades  of  the  animal  king- 
dom. And  similarly,  it  is  manifest  that  as  fast  as  the 
division  of  labour  among  the  classes  of  a  community, 
becomes  greater,  there  must  be  an  increasing  heteroge- 
neity in  the  currents  of  merchandise  flowing  throughout 
that  community. 

The  circulating  mass  of  nutritive  materials  in  individual 
organisms  and  in  social  organisms,  becoming  alike  better  in 
the  quality  of  its  ingredients  and  more  heterogeneous  in 
composition,  as  the  type  of  structure  becomes  higher; 
eventually  has  added  to  it  in  both  cases  another  element, 
which  is  not  itself  nutritive,  but  facilitates  the  process  of 
nutrition.  TVe  refer,  in  the  case  of  the  individual  organ- 
ism, to  the  blood-discs ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  social  or- 
ganism, to  money.  This  analogy  has  been  observed  by 
Liebig,  who  in  his  "  Familiar  Letters  on  Chemistry," 
says: 

"  Silver  and  gold  have  to  perform  in  the  organization  of  the 
State,  the  same  function  as  the  blood  corpuscles  in  the  human 
organization.  "  As  these  round  discs,  without  themselves  taking  an 
immediate  share  in  the  nutritive  process,  are  the  medium,  the 
e-sential  condition  of  the  change  of  matter,  of  the  production  of 
the  heat,  and  of  the  force  by  which  the  temperature  of  the  body 
is  kept  up  and  the  motions  of  the  blood  and  all  the  juices  are  de- 
termined, so  has  gold  become  the  medium  of  all  activity  in  the  life 
of  the  State." 

And  blood-corpuscles  being  like  money  in  their  func- 
tions, and  in  the  fact  that  they  are  not  consumed  in  nutri- 


ANALOGY    BETWEEN   THE   CERCULATIONS.  403 

tion,  he  further  points  out,  that  the  number  of  them  whicli 
in  a  considerable  interval  flows  through  the  great  centres, 
is  enormous  when  compared  with  their  absolute  number  ; 
just  as  the  quantity  of  money  which  annually  passes 
through  the  great  mercantile  centres,  is  enormous  when 
compared  with  the  total  quantity  of  money  in  the  kingdom. 
ISTor  is  this  all.  Liebig  has  omitted  the  significant  circum- 
stance, that  only  at  a  certain  stage  of  organization  does  this 
element  of  the  circulation  make  its  appearance.  Through- 
out extensive  divisions  of  the  low^er  animals,  the  blood  con- 
tains no  corpuscles ;  and  in  societies  of  low  civilization, 
there  is  no  money. 

Thus  far,  we  have  considered  the  analogy  between  the 
blood  in  a  living  body  and  the  consumable  and  circujating 
commodities  in  the  body  politic.  Let  us  now  compare  the 
appliances  by  w^hich  they  are  respectively  distributed*.  We 
shall  find  in  the  development  of  these  appliances,  parallel- 
isms not  less  remarkable  than  those  above  set  forth.  Al- 
ready we  have  shown  that,  as  classes,  wholesale  and  retail 
distributors  discharge  in  a  society,  the  office  which  the 
vascular  system  discharges  in  an  individual  creature  ;  that 
they  come  into  existence  later  than  the  other  two  great 
classes,  as  the  vascular  layer  appears  later  than  the  mucous 
and  serous  layers  ;  and  that  they  occupy  a  like  intermedi- 
ate position.  Here,  however,  it  remains  to  be  pointed  out 
that  a  complete  conception  of  the  circulating  system  in  a 
society,  includes  not  only  the  active  human  agents  who 
propel  the  currents  of  commodities,  and  regulate  their  dis- 
tribution ;  but  includes,  also,  the  channels  of  communication. 
It  is  the  formation  and  arrangement  of  these,  to  which  we 
now  direct  attention. 

Going  back  once  more  to  those  lower  animals  in  which 
there  is  found  nothing  but  a  partial  diffusion,  not  of  blood, 
but  only  of  crude  nutritive  fluids,  it  is  to  be  remarked  that 
the  channels  through  which  the  diffusion  takes  place,  are 


404:  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

mere  excavations  through  the  half-organized  substance  of 
the  body :  they  have  no  hning  iTiembranes,  but  are  mera 
lacimce  traversing  a  rude  tissue.  Xow  countries  in  which 
civilization  is  but  commencing,  display  a  like  condition : 
there  are  no  roads  properly  so  called ;  but  the  wilderness 
of  vegetal  life  covering  the  earth's  surface,  is  pierced  by 
tracks,  through  which  the  distribution  of  crude  commodi- 
ties takes  place.  And  while  in  both  cases,  the  acts  of  dis- 
tribution occur  only  at  long  intervals  (the  currents,  after  a 
pause,  now  setting  towards  a  general  centre,  and  now 
away  from  it),  the  transfer  is  in  both  cases  slow  and  difficult. 
But  among  other  accompaniments  of  progress,  common  to 
animals  and  societies,  comes  the  formation  of  more  definite 
and  complete  channels  of  communication.  Blood-vessels 
acquire  distinct  walls ;  roads  are  fenced  and  gravelled. 
This  advance  is  first  seen  in  those  roads  or  vessels  that  are 
nearest  to  the  chief  centres  of  distribution  ;  wdiile  the  peri- 
pheral roads  and  peripheral  vessels,  long  continue  in  their 
primitive  states.  At  a  yet  later  stage  of  development, 
where  comparative  finish  of  structure  is  found  throughout 
the  system  as  well  as  near  the  chief  centres,  there  remains 
in  both  cases  the  difference,  that  the  main  channels  are 
comparatively  broad  and  straight,  while  the  subordinate 
ones  are  narrow  and  tortuous  in  proportion  to  their  re- 
moteness. 

Lastly,  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  there  ultimately  arise 
in  the  higher  social  organisms,  as  in  the  higher  individual 
organisms,  main  channels  of  distribution  still  more  distin- 
guished by  their  perfect  structures,  their  comparative 
Btraightness,  and  the  absence  of  those  small  branches  which 
the  minor  channels  perjDctually  give  off.  And  in  railways 
we  also  see,  for  the  first  time  in  the  social  organism,  a 
BpeciaUzation  with  respect  to  the  directions  of  the  currents 
— a  system  of  double  channels  conveying  currents  in  oppo 
site  directions,  as  do  the  artorius  and  veins  of  a  well-devel* 
oped  animal. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   CIKCULATOKY    CHANNELS.  405 

These  parallelisms  in  the  evolutions  and  structures  of 
tne  circulating  systems,  introduce  us  to  otliers  in  the  kinds 
and  rates  of  the  movements  going  on  through  them.  In 
the  lowest  societies,  as  in  the  lowest  creatures,  the  distri- 
bution of  crude  nutriment  is  by  slow  gurgitations  and  re- 
gurgitations. In  creatures  that  have  rude  vascular  sys 
terns,  as  in  societies  that  are  beginning  to  have  roads  and 
some  transfer  of  commodities  along  them,  there  is  no  regu- 
lar circulation  in  definite  courses ;  but  instead,  periodical 
changes  of  the  currents — now  towards  this  point,  and  now 
towards  that.  Through  each  part  of  an  inferior  mollusk's 
body,  the  blood  flows  for  a  while  in  one  direction,  then 
stops,  and  flows  in  the  opposite  direction  ;  just  as  through  a 
rudely-organized  society,  the  distribution  of  merchandise 
is  slowly  carried  on  by  great  fairs,  occurring  in  diflerent 
localities,  to  and  from  which  the  currents  periodically  set. 
Only  animals  of  tolerably  complete  organizations,  Hke  ad- 
vanced communities,  are  permeated  by  constant  currents 
that  are  definitely  directed.  In  living  bodies,  the  local  and 
variable  currents  disappear  when  there  grow  up  great 
centres  of  circulation,  generating  more  powerful  currents, 
by  a  rhythm  which  ends  in  a  quick,  regular  pulsation. 
And  when  in  social  bodies,  there  arise  great  centres  of 
commercial  activity,  producing  and  exchanging  large  quan- 
tities of  commodities,  the  rajDid  and  continuous  streams 
drawn  in  and  emitted  by  these  centres,  subdue  all  minor 
and  local  circulations :  the  slow  rhythm  of  fairs  merges 
into  the  faster  one  of  weekly  markets,  and  in  the  chief  cen- 
tres of  distribution,  weekly  markets  merge  into  daily  mar- 
kets ;  while  in  place  of  the  languid  transfer  from  place  to 
place,  taking  place  at  first  weekly,  then  twice  or  thrice  a 
week,  we  by-and-by  get  daily  transfer,  and  finally  transfer 
many  times  a  day — the  original  sluggish,  irregular  rhythm, 
becomes  a  rapid,  equable  pulse. 

Mark,  too,  that  in  both  cases  the  increased  activity,  like 


406  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

the  greater  perfection  of  structure,  is  mucli  less  conspicu 
ous  at  the  periphery  of  the  vascular  system.  On  main 
lines  of  railway,  we  have,  perhaps,  a  score  trains  in  each 
direction  daily,  going  at  from  thirty  to  fifty  miles  an  hour ; 
as,  through  the  great  arteries,  the  blood  rushes  rapidly  in 
successive  gushes.  Along  high  roads,  there  move  vehiclea 
conveying  men  and  commodities  with  much  less,  though 
still  considerable,  speed,  and  with  a  much  less  decided 
rhythm  ;  as,  in  the  smaller  arteries,  the  speed  of  the  blood 
is  greatly  diminished,  and  the  pulse  less  conspicuous.  In 
parish-roads,  narrow,  less  complete,  and  more  tortuous,  the 
rate  of  movement  is  further  decreased  and  the  rhythm 
scarcely  traceable ;  as  in  the  ultimate  arteries.  In  those 
still  more  imperfect  by-roads  which  lead  from  these  parish- 
roads  to  scattered  farmhouses  and  cottages,  the  motion  is 
yet  slower  and  very  irregular ;  just  as  we  find  it  in  the 
capillaries.  While  along  the  field-roads,  which,  in  their 
unformed,  unfenced  state,  are  typical  of  lacimcB^  the  move 
ment  is  the  slowest,  the  most  irregular,  and  the  most  infre- 
quent ;  as  it  is,  not  only  in"the  primitive  lacuncjeoi  animals, 
and  societies,  but  as  it  is  also  in  those  lacimce  in  which  the 
vascular  system  ends  among  extensive  families  of  inferior 
creatures. 

Thus,  then,  we  find  between  the  distributing  systems 
of  living  bodies  and  the  distributing  systems  of  bodies  pol- 
itic, wonderfully  close  parallelisms.  In  the  lowest  forms  of 
individual  and  social  organisms,  there  exist  neither  prepar- 
ed nutritive  matters  nor  diistributing  appliances ;  and  in 
both,  these,  arising  as  necessary  accompaniments  of  the 
differentiation  of  parts,  approach  perfection  as  this  differen- 
tiation approaches  completeness.  In  animals,  as  in  socie- 
ties, the  distributing  agencies  begin  to  show  themselves  at 
the  same  relative  periods,  and  in  the  same  relative  positions. 
In  the  one,  as  in  the  other,  the  nutritive  materials  circula- 
ted, are  at  first  crude  and  simple,  gradually  become  bette? 


ITS   ANALOGIES    WITH   THE   NERVOUS    SYSTEM.         407 

elaborated  and  more  heterogeneous,  and  have  eventually 
added  to  them  a  new  element  flxcilitating  the  nutritive  pro- 
cesses. The  channels  of  communication  pass  through  similar 
phases  of  development,  which  bring  them  to  analogous 
forms.  And  the  directions,  rhythms,  and  rates  of  cir- 
culation, progress  by  like  steps  to  like  final  conditions. 

We  come  at  length  to  the  nervous  system.  Having  no- 
ticed the  primary  differentiation  of  societies  into  the  gov- 
erning and  governed  classes,  and  observed  its  analogy  to 
the  differentiation  of  the  two  primary  tissues  which  respec- 
tively develope  into  organs  of  external  action  and  organs 
of  alimentation  ;  having  noticed  some  of  the  leading  anal- 
ogies between  the  development  of  industrial  arrangements 
and  that  of  the  alimentary  apparatus  ;  and  having,  above, 
more  fully  traced  the  analogies  between  the  distributing 
systems,  social  and  individual ;  we  have  now  to  compare 
the  appliances  by  which  a  society,  as  a  whole,  is  regulated, 
with  those  by  which  the  movements  of  an  individual  crea- 
ture are  regulated.  We  shall  find  here,  parallelisms  equally 
striking  with  those  already  detailed. 

The  class  out  of  which  governmental  organization  ori- 
ginates, is,  as  we  have  said,  analogous  in  its  relations  to  the 
ectoderm  of  the  lowest  animals  and  of  embryonic  forms. 
And  as  this  primitive  membrane,  out  of  which  the  norvo- 
muscular  system  is  evolved,  must,  even  in  the  first  stage  of 
its  differentiation,  be  shghtly  distingnished  from  the  rest 
by  that  greater  impressibility  and  contractility  characteriz- 
ing the  organs  to  which  it  gives  rise  ;  so,  in  that  superior 
class  which  is  eventually  transformed  into  the  directo-exe- 
cutive  system  of  a  society  (its  legislative  and  defensive  ap- 
pliances), does  there  exist  in  the  beginning,  a  larger  en- 
dowment of  the  capacities  required  for  these  higher  social 
functions.  Always,  in  rude  assemblages  of  men,  the  strong- 
sst,  most  courageous,  and  most  sagacious,  become  rulers 


408  THE   SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

and  leaders  ;  and,  in  a  tribe  of  some  standing,  this  results 
in  the  establishment  of  a  dominant  class,  characterized  on 
the  average  by  those  mental  and  bodily  qualities  which  fit 
them  for  deliberation  and  vigorous  combined  action.  Thus 
that  greater  impressibility  and  contractility,  which  in  the 
rudest  animal  types  characterize  the  units  of  the  ectoderm, 
characterize  also  the  units  of  the  primitive  social  ectoderm  ; 
since  impressibility  and  contractility  are  the  respective  roots 
of  intelho^ence  and  streno^th. 

Again,  in  the  unmodified  ectoderm,  as  we  see  it  in  the 
Hydra^  the  units  are  all  endowed  both  with  impressibility 
and  contractility  ;  but  as  we  ascend  to  higher  types  of  or- 
ganization, the  ectoderm  differentiates  into  classes  of  units 
which  divide  those  two  functions  between  them  :  some,  be- 
coming exclusively  impressible,  cease  to  be  contractile ; 
while  some,  becoming  exclusively  contractile,  cease  to  be 
impressible.  Similarly  with  societies.  In  an  aboriginal 
tribe,  the  directive  and  executive  functions  are  diffused  in 
a  mingled  form  throughout  the  whole  governing  class. 
Each  minor  chief  commands  those  under  him,  and  if  need 
be,  himself  coerces  them  into  obedience.  The  council  of 
chiefs  itself  carries  out  on  the  battle-field  its  own  decisions. 
The  head  chief  not  only  makes  laws,  but  administers  justice 
w^ith  his  own  hands.  In  larger  and  more  settled  communi- 
ties, however,  the  directive  and  executive  agencies  begin 
to  grow  distinct  from  each  other.  As  fast  as  his  duties 
accumulate,  the  head  chief  or  king  confines  himself  more 
and  more  to  directing  public  affairs,  and  leaves  the  execu- 
tion of  his  will  to  others  :  he  deputes  others  to  enforce 
submission,  to  inflict  punishments,  or  to  carry  out  minor 
acts  of  offence  and  defence ;  and  only  on  occasions  when, 
perhaps,  the  safety  of  the  society  and  his  own  supremacy 
are  at  stake,  does  he  begin  to  act  as  well  as  direct.  Aa 
this  differentiation  establishes  itself,  the  characteristics  of 
the  ruler  begin  to  change.     Ko  longer,  as  in  an  aboriginaJ 


DIFFEKENTIATION  OF  THE  DIEECTIVE  FUNCTIONS.      409 

tribe,  the  strongest  and  most  daring  man,  the  tendency  is 
for  him  to  become  the  man  of  greatest  cunning,  foresight, 
and  skill  in  the  management  of  others  ;  for  in  societies  that 
have  advanced  beyond  the  first  stage,  it  is  chiefly  such 
qualities  that  insure  success  in  gaining  supreme  power,  and 
holding  it  against  internal  and  external  enemies.  Thus  that 
member  of  the  governing  class  who  comes  to  be  the  chief 
directing  agent,  and  so  plays  the  same  part  that  a  rudimen- 
tary nervous  centre  does  in  an  unfolding  organism,  is  usu- 
ally one  endowed  with  some  superiorities  of  nervous  organ- 
ization. 

In  those  somewhat  larger  and  more  complex  communi- 
ties possessing,  perhaps,  a  separate  military  class,  a  priest- 
hood, and  dispersed  masses  of  population  requiring  local 
control,  there  necessarily  grow  up  subordinate  governing 
agents  ;  who  as  their  duties  accumulate,  severally  become 
more  directive  and  less  executive  in  their  characters. 
And  when,  as  commonly  happens,  the  king  begins  to 
collect  round  himself  advisers  who  aid  him  by  commun- 
icating information,  preparing  subjects  for  his  judgment, 
and  issuing  his  orders ;  we  may  say  that  the  form  of 
organization  is  comparable  to  one  very  general  among 
inferior  types, of  animals,  in  which  there  exists  a  chief 
ganglion  with  a  few  dispersed  minor  ganglia  under  its 
control. 

The  analogies  between  the  evolution  of  governmental 
structures  in  societies,  and  the  evolution  of  governmental 
structures  in  living  bodies,  are,  however,  more  strikingly 
displayed  during  the  formation  of  nations  by  the  coales- 
cence of  small  communities — a  process  already  shown  to 
be,  in  several  respects,  parallel  to  the  development  of  those 
creatures  that  primarily  consist  of  many  like  segments. 
Among  other  points  of  community  between  the  successive 
rings  which  make  up  the  body  in  the  lower  Articiilata,  is 
the  possession  of  similar  pairs  of  ganglia.  These  pairs  of 
18 


410  TUE    SOCIAL   ORGANISM. 

ganglia,  though  united  together  by  nerves,  are  veryincom- 
pletely  dependent  on  any  general  controlling  power.  Hence 
it  results  that  when  the  body  is  cut  in  two,  the  hinder  part 
continues  to  move  forward  under  the  propulsion  of  its  nu- 
merous legs ;  and  that  when  the  chain  of  ganglia  has  been 
divided  without  severing  the  body,  the  hind  limbs  may  be 
seen  trying  to  propel  the  body  in  one  direction,  while  the 
fore  limbs  are  trying  to  propel  it  in  another.  Among  the 
higher  Articulata^  however,  a  number  of  the  anterior  pairs 
of  ganglia,  besides  growing  larger,  unite  in  one  mass ;  and  this 
great  cephalic  ganglion,  becoming  the  co-ordinator  of  all  the 
creature's  movements,  there  no  longer  exists  much  local  in 
dependence. 

ISTow  may  we  not  in  the  growth  of  a  consolidated  king- 
dom out  of  petty  sovereignties  or  baromes,  observe  analo- 
gous changes  ?  Like  the  chiefs  and  primitive  rulers  above 
described,  feudal  lords,  exercising  supreme  power  over  their 
respective  groups  of  retainers,  discharge  functions  analo- 
gous to  those  of  rudimentary  nervous  centres;  and  we 
know  that  at  first  they,  like  their  analogues,  are  distin- 
guished by  superiorities  of  directive  and  executive  organiza- 
tion. Among  these  local  governing  centres,  there  is,  in 
early  feudal  times,  very  little  subordination.  They  are  in 
frequent  antagonism;  they  are  individually  restrained  chief- 
ly by  the  influence  of  large  parties  in  their  own  class ;  and 
are  but  imperfectly  and  irregularly  subject  to  that  most 
powerful  member  of  their  order  who  has  gained  the  posi- 
tion of  head  suzerain  or  king.  As  the  growth  and  organi- 
zation of  the  society  progresses,  these  local  directive  cen- 
tres fall  more  and  more  under  the  control  of  a  chief  direc- 
tive centre.  Closer  commercial  union  between  the  several 
segments,  is  accompanied  by  closer  governmental  union ; 
and  these  minor  rulers  end  in  being  little  more  than  agents 
who  administer,  in  their  several  localities,  the  laws  made  by 
the  supreme  ruler :  just  as  the  local  ganglia  above  described. 


ANALOGUES    OF   THE   NERVOUS    CENTRES.  411 

eventually  become  agents  which  enforce,  in  their  respec- 
tive segments,  the  orders  of  the  cephalic  ganglion. 

The  parallelism  holds  still  farther.  We  remarked  above, 
when  speaking  of  the  rise  of  aboriginal  kings,  that  in  pro- 
portion as  their  territories  and  duties  increase,  they  are 
obliged  not  only  to  perform  their  executive  functions  by 
deputy,  but  also  to  gather  round  themselves  advisers  to  aid 
them  in  th^ir  directive  functions ;  and  that  thus,  in  place 
of  a  solitary  governing  unit,  there  grows  up  a  group  of 
governing  units,  comparable  to  a  ganglion  consisting  of 
many  cells.  Let  us  here  add,  that  the  advisers  and  chief 
officers  who  thus  form  the  rudiment  of  a  ministry,  tend 
from  the  beginning  to  exercise  a  certain  control  over  the 
ruler.  By  the  information  they  give  and  the  opinions  they 
express,  they  sway  his  judgment  and  affect  his  commands. 
To  this  extent  he  therefore  becomes  a  channel  through 
which  are  communicated  the  directions  oriojinatino^  with 
them ;  and  in  course  of  time,  when  the  advice  of  ministers 
becomes  the  acknowledged  source  of  his  actions,  the  king 
assumes  very  much  the  character  of  an  automatic  centre, 
reflecting  the  impressions  made  on  him  from  without. 

Beyond  this  complication  of  governmental  structuie, 
many  societies  do  not  progress  ;  but  in  some,  a  further  de- 
velopment takes  place.  Our  own  case  best  illustrates  this 
further  development,  and  its  further  analogies.  To  kings 
and  their  ministries  have  been  added,  in  England,  other 
great  directive  centres,  exercising  a  control  which,  at  first 
small,  has  been  gradually  becoming  predominant :  as  with 
the  great  governing  ganglia  that  especially  distinguish  the 
highest  classes  of  living  beings.  Strange  as  the  assertion 
will  be  thought,  our  Houses  of  Parliament  discharge  in  the 
social  economy,  functions  that  are  in  sundry  respects  com- 
parable to  those  discharged  by  the  cerebral  masses  in  a 
vertebrate  animal.  As  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  single  gan 
glion  to  be  affected  only  by  special  stimuli  from  particular 


412  THE   SOCIAL   OEGAiaSM. 

parts  of  the  body ;  so  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  single  ruler 
to  be  swayed  in  his  acts  by  exclusive  personal  or  class  in- 
terests. As  it  is  in  the  nature  of  an  aggregation  of  ganglia, 
connected  with  the  primary  one,  to  convey  to  it  a  greater 
variety  of  influences  from  more  numerous  organs,  and  thus 
to  make  its  acts  conform  to  more  numerous  requirements ; 
BO  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  king  surrounded  by  subsidiary 
controlling  powers,  to  adapt  his  rule  to  a  greater  number 
of  pubhc  exigencies.  And  as  it  is  in  the  nature  of  those 
great  and  latest-developed  ganglia  which  distinguish  the 
higher  animals,  to  interpret  and  combine  the  multiplied 
and  varied  impressions  conveyed  to  them  from  all  parts  of 
the  system,  and  to  regulate  the  actions  in  such  way  as  duly 
to  regard  them  all ;  so  it  is  in  the  nature  of  those  great 
and  latest-developed  legislative  bodies  which  distinguish 
the  most  advanced  societies,  to  interpret  and  combine  the 
wishes  and  complaints  of  all  classes  and  localities,  and  t6 
regulate  pubhc  affairs  as  much  as  possible  in  harmony  with 
the  general  wants. 

The  cerebrum  co-ordinates  the  countless  heterogeneous 
considerations  which  affect  the  present  and  future  welfare 
of  the  individual  as  a  whole  ;  and  the  legislature  co-ordi- 
nates the  countless  heterogeneous  considerations  which  af- 
fect the  immediate  and  remote  welfare  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. "We  may  describe  the  office  of  the  brain  as  that 
of  averaging  the  interests  of  life,  physical,  intellectual, 
moral,  social ;  and  a  good  brain  is  one  in  which  the  desires 
answering  to  these  respective  interests  are  so  balanced, 
that  the  conduct  they  jointly  dictate,  sacrifices  none  of 
them.  Similarly,  we  may  describe  the  office  of  a  Parlia- 
ment as  that  of  averaging  the  interests  of  the  various 
classes  in  a  community ;  and  a  good  Parliament  is  one  in 
which  the  parties  answering  to  these  respective  interests 
are  so  balanced,  that  their  united  legislation  concedes  to 
each  class  as  much  as  consists  with  the  claims  of  the  rest 


FUNCTIONS   AND   ANALOGUES    OF   THE   CEREBRUM.      413 

Besides  being  comparable  in  their  duties,  these  great  di- 
rective centres,  social  and  individual,  are  comparable  in  the 
processes  by  which  their  duties  are  discharged. 

It  is  now  an  acknowledged  truth  in  psychology,  that 
the  cerebrum  is  not  occupied  with  direct  impressions  from 
without,  but  with  the  ideas  of  such  impressions  :  instead  of 
the  actual  sensations  produced  in  the  body,  and  directly 
appreciated  by  the  sensory  ganglia  or  primitive  nervous 
centres,  the  cerebrum  receives  only  the  representations  of 
these  sensations  ;  and  its  consciousness  is  called  representa- 
tive  consciousness,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  original  or 
presentative  consciousness.  Is  it  not  significant  that  we 
have  hit  on  the  same  w^ord  to  distinguish  the  function  of 
our  House  of  Commons  ?  We  call  it  a  representative  body, 
because  the  interests  with  which  it  deals — the  pains  and 
pleasures  about  which  it  consults — are  not  directly  pre- 
sented to  it,  but  represented  to  it  by  its  various  members  ; 
and  a  debate  is  a  conflict  of  representations  of  the  evils  or 
benefits  likely  to  follow  from  a  proposed  course — a  descrip- 
tion which  applies  with  equal  truth  to  a  debate  in  the  indi- 
vidual consciousness.  In  both  cases,  too,  these  great  gov- 
erning masses  take  no  part  in  the  executive  functions.  As, 
after  a  conflict  in  the  cerebrum,  those  desires  which  finally 
predominate,  act  on  the  subjacent  ganglia,  and  through 
their  instrumentality  determine  the  bodily  actions ;  so  the 
parties  which,  after  a  parliamentary  struggle,  gain  the  vic- 
tory, do  not  themselves  carry  out  their  wishes,  but  get 
them  carried  out  by  the  executive  divisions  of  the  Govern- 
ment. The  fulfilment  of  all  legislative  decisions  still  de- 
volves on  the  original  directive  centres — the  impulse  pass- 
ing from  the  Parliament  to  the  Ministers,  and  from  the 
Ministers  to  the  King,  in  whose  name  everything  is  done ; 
iust  as  those  smaller,  first-developed  ganglia,  which  in  the 
lowest  vertebrata  are  the  chief  controlling  agents,  are  still, 
in  the  brains  of  the  higher  vertebrata,  the  agents  through 
which  the  dictates  of  the  cerebrum  are  worked  out. 


414  THE    SOCIAL    OKaANISM 

Moreovei,  in  both  cases  these  original  centres  become 
increasingly  automatic.  In  the  developed  vertebrate  ani* 
mal,  they  have  little  function  beyond  that  of  conveying 
impressions  to,  and  executing  the  determinations  of,  the 
larger  centres.  In  our  highly  organized  government,  the 
monarch  has  long  been  lapsing  into  a  passive  agent  of  Par= 
liament ;  and  now,  ministers  are  rapidly  falling  into  the 
same  position. 

Nay,  between  the  two  cases  there  is  a  parallelism,  even 
in  respect  of  the  exceptions  to  this  automatic  action.  For 
in  the  individual  creature,  it  happens  that  under  circum- 
stances of  sudden  alarm,  as  from  a  loud  sound  close  at 
hand,  an  unexpected  object  starting  up  in  front,  or  a  slip 
from  insecure  footing,  the  danger  is  guarded  against  by 
some  quick  involuntary  jump,  or  adjustment  of  the  limbs, 
that  takes  place  before  there  is  time  to  consider  the  im- 
pending evil,  and  take  deliberate  measures  to  avoid  it :  the 
rationale  of  which  is,  that  these  violent  impressions  pro- 
duced on  the  senses,  are  reflected  from  the  sensory  ganglia 
to  the  spinal  cord  and  muscles,  without,  as  in  ordinary 
cases,  first  passing  through  the  cerebrum.  In  like  manner, 
on  national  emergencies,  calling  for  prompt  action,  the 
King  and  Ministry,  not  having  time  to  lay  the  matter  be- 
fore the  great  deliberative  bodies,  themselves  issue  com- 
mands for  the  requisite  movements  or  precautions :  the 
primitive,  and  now  almost  automatic,  directive  centres,  re- 
sume for  a  moment  their  original  uncontrolled  power. 
And  then,  strangest  of  all,  observe  that  in  either  case  there 
is  an  afterprocess  of  approval  or  disapproval.  The  individ- 
ual on  recovering  from  his  automatic  start,  at  once  contem- 
IDlates  the  cause  of  his  fright ;  and,  according  to  the  case, 
concludes  that  it  was  well  he  moved  as  he  did,  or  con- 
demns himself  for  his  groundless  alarm.  In  like  manner, 
the  deliberative  powers  of  the  State,  discuss,  as  soon  as 
may  be,  the  unauthorized  acts  of  the  executive  powers 


TELEGRAPH- WntES   Al^ALOGOUS   TO    NERVES.  415 

and,  deciding  that  Ahe  reasons  were  or  were  not  Biifficieut, 
grant  or  withhold  a  bill  of  indemnity.* 

Thus  far  in  comparing  the  governmental  organization 
of  the  body  politic  with  that  of  an  individual  body,  we 
have  considered  only  the  respective  co-ordinating  centres. 
We  have  yet  to  consider  the  channels  through  which  these 
co-ordinating  centres  receive  information  and  convey  com- 
mands. In  the  simplest  societies,  as  in  the  simplest  organ- 
isms, there  is  no  "  internuncial  apparatus,"  as  Hunter  styled 
the  nervous  system.  Consequently,  impressions  can  be  but 
slowly  propagated  from  unit  to  unit  throughout  the  whole 
mass.  The  same  progress,  however,  which,  in  animal-or- 
ganiziition,  shows  itself  in  the  establishment  of  gangUa  or 
directive  centres,  shows  itself  also  in  the  establishment  of 
nerve-threads,  through  which  the  ganglia  receive  and  con- 
vey impressions,  and  so  control  remote  organs.  And  in  so- 
cieties the  like  eventually  takes  place. 

After  a  long  period  during  which  the  directive  centres 
communicate  with  various  parts  of  the  society  through 
other  means,  there  at  last  comes  into  existence  an  "  inter- 
nuncial apparatus,"  analogous  to  that  found  in  individual 
bodies.  The  comparison  of  telegraph-wires  to  nerves,  is 
familiar  to  all.  It  applies,  however,  to  an  extent  not  com- 
monly supposed.  We  do  not  refer  to  the  near  alliance  be- 
tween the  subtle  forces  employed  in  the  two  cases ;  though 
it  is  now  held  that  the  nerve-force,  if  not  literally  electric, 

*  It  may  be  well  to  -warn  the  reader  against  an  error  fallen  into  by  one 
who  criticised  this  essay  on  its  first  publication — the  error  of  supposing  that 
the  analogy  here  intended  to  be  drawn,  is  a  specific  analogy  between  the 
organization  of  society  in  England,  and  the  human  organization.  As  said 
at  the  outset,  no  such  specific  analogy  exists.  The  above  parallel,  is  one 
between  the  most-developed  systems  of  governmental  organization,  indi- 
vidual and  social ;  and  the  vertebrate  type  is  instanced,  merely  as  exhibit- 
ing this  most-developed  system.  If  any  specific  comparison  were  made, 
which  it  cannot  rationally  be,  it  would  be  to  some  much  lower  vertebrate 
form  than  the  human. 


416  THE   SOCIAL    ORGANISM. 

is  Still  a  special  form  of  electric  action,%'elated  to  the  ordi- 
nary form  much  as  magnetism  is.  But  we  refer  to  the 
structural  arrangements  of  our  telegrapt-system.  Thus, 
throughout  the  vertebrate  sub-kingdom,  the  great  nerve- 
bundles  diverge  from  the  vertebrate  axis,  side  by  side  with 
the  great  arteries  ;  and  similarly,  our  groups  of  telegraph- 
wires  are  carried  along  the  sides  of  our  railways.  The 
most  striking  parallelism,  however,  remains.  Into  each 
great  bundle  of  nerves,  as  it  leaves  the  axis  of  the  body 
along  with  an  artery,  there  enters  a  branch  of  the  sympa- 
thetic nerve  ;  which  branch,  accompanying  the  artery 
throughout  its  ramifications,  has  the  function  of  regulating 
Its  diameter  and  other\vise  controlling  the  flow  of  blood 
through  it  according  to  the  local  requirements.  Analo- 
gously, in  the  group  of  telegraph-wires  running  alongside 
each  railway,  there  is  one  for  the  purpose  of  regulating  the 
traffic — for  retarding  or  expediting  the  flow  of  passengers 
and  commodities,  as  the  local  conditions  demand.  Proba- 
bly, when  our  now  rudimentary  telegraph-system  is  fully 
developed,  other  analogies  will  be  traceable. 

Such,  then,  is  a  general  outhne  of  the  evidence  which 
justifies,  in  detail,  the  comparison  of  societies  to  living  or- 
ganisms. That  they  gradually  increase  in  mass  ;  that  they 
become  little  by  little  more  complex ;  that  at  the  same 
time  their  parts  grow  more  mutually  dependent ;  and  that 
they  continue  to  five  and  grow  as  wholes,  while  successive 
generations  of  their  units  appear  and  disappear ;  are  broad 
peculiarities  which  bodies  politic  display,  in  common  with 
all  living  bodies ;  and  in  which  they  and  living  bodies  difier 
from  everything  else.  And  on  carrying  out  the  compari- 
son in  detail,  we  find  that  these  major  analogies  involve 
many  minor  analogies,  far  closer  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. To  these  we  would  gladly  have  added  others.  We 
had  hoped  to  say  something  respecting  the  difierent  typea 
of  social  organization,  and  something  also  on  social  meta- 
morphoses ;  but  we  have  reached  our  assigned  limits. 


XI. 

USE  AND  BEAUTY 


IN  one  of  his  essays,  Emerson  remarks,  that  what  Nature 
at  one  time  provides  for  use,  she  afterwards  turns  to 
ornament ;  and  he  cites  in  illustration  the  structure  of  a 
sea-shell,  in  which  the  parts  that  have  for  a  while  formed 
the  mouth  are  at  the  next  season  of  growth  left  behind, 
and  become  decorative  nodes  and  spines. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  this  same  remark  might 
be  extended  to  the  progress  of  Humanity.  Here,  too,  the 
appliances  of  one  era  serve  as  embellishments  to  the  next. 
Equally  in  institutions,  creeds,  customs,  and  superstitions, 
we  may  trace  this  evolution  of  beauty  out  of  what  was  once 
purely  utilitarian. 

The  contrast  between  the  feeling  with  which  we  regard 
portions  of  the  Earth's  surface  still  left  in  their  original 
state,  and  the  feehng  with  which  the  savage  regarded  them, 
is  an  instance  that  naturally  comes  first  in  order  of  time. 
If  any  one  walking  over  Hampstead  Heath,  will  note  how 
strongly  its  picturesqueness  is  brought  out  by  contrast- 
with  the  surrounding  cultivated  fields  and  the  masses  of 
Iiouses  lying  in  the  distance ;  and  will  further  reflect  that, 
had  this  irregular  gorse-covered  surface  extended  on  all 
sides  to  the  horizon,  it  would  have  looked  dreary  and 
prosaic  rather  than  pleasing ;  he  will  see  that  to  the  primi- 
tive man  a  country  so  clothed  presented  no  beauty  at  all. 


418  f^SE    AND   BEATJTT. 

To  him  it  was  merely  a  haunt  of  wild  animals,  and  a  ground 
out  of  which  roots  might  be  dug.  What  have  become  for 
us  places  of  relaxation  and  enjoyment — places  for  afternoon 
strolls  and  for  gathering  flowers — were  his  places  for  labour 
and  food,  probably  arousing  in  his  mind  none  but  utilitarian 
associations. 

Ruined  castles  afford  an  obvious  instance  of  this  meta- 
morphosis of  the  useful  into  the  beautiful.  To  feudal 
barons  and  their  retainers,  security  was  the  chief,  if  not  the 
only  end,  sought  in  choosing  the  sites  and  styles  of  their 
strongholds.  Probably  they  aimed  as  little  at  the  pic- 
turesque as  do  the  builders  of  cheap  brick  houses  in  our 
modern  towns.  Yet  what  where  erected  for  shelter  and 
safety,  and  what  in  those  early  days  fulfilled  an  important 
function  in  the  social  economy,  have  now  assumed  a  purely 
ornamental  character.  They  serve  as  scenes  for  picnics ; 
pictures  of  them  decorate  our  drawing-rooms ;  and  each 
supplies  its  surrounding  districts  with  legends  for  Christ- 
mas Eve. 

Following  out  the  train  of  thought  suggested  by  this 
last  illustration,  we  may  see  that  not  only  do  the  material 
exuviffi  of  past  social  states  become  the  ornaments  of  our 
landscapes ;  but  that  past  habits,  manners,  and  arrange- 
ments, serve  as  ornamental  elements  in  our  literature. 
The  tyrannies  that,  to  the  serfs  who  bore  thqm,  were  harsh 
and  dreary  facts ;  the  feuds  which,  to  those  who  took  part 
in  them,  were  very  practical  life-and-death  affairs ;  the 
mailed,  moated,  sentinelled  security  that  was  irksome  to 
the  nobles  who  needed  it ;  the  imj^risonments,  and  tor- 
tures, and  escapes,  which  were  stern  and  quite  prosaic 
realities  to  all  concerned  in  them ;  have  become  to  us 
material  for  romantic  tales — material  which  when  woven 
into  Ivanhoes  and  Marmions,  serves  for  amusement  in  leis- 
ure hours,  and  become  poetical  by  contrast  with  our  daily 


THE  USEFUL  TRA:N^SF0EMED  INTO  THE  OENAMENTAL.     419 

Thus,  also,  is  it  with  extinct  creeds.  Stonehenge,  which 
in  the  hands  of  the  Druids  had  a  governmental  influence 
over  men,  is  in  our  day  a  place  for  antiquarian  excursions ; 
and  its  attendant  priests  are  worked  u])  into  an  opera. 
Greek  sculi^tures,  preserved  for  their  beauty  in  our  galleries 
of  art,  and  copied  for  the  decoration  of  pleasure  grounds 
and  entrance  halls,  once  Hved  in  men's  minds  as  gods  de- 
manding obedience ;  as  did  also  the  grotesque  idols  that 
now  amuse  the  visitors  to  our  museums. 

Equally  marked  is  this  change  of  function  in  the  case  of 
minor  superstitions.  The  fairy  lore,  which  in  past  times 
was  matter  of  grave  belief,  and  held  sway  over  people's 
conduct,  has  since  been  transformed  into  ornament  for 
A  Midsummer  NighPs  Dream^  The  Tempest^  The  Fairy 
Queen^  and  endless  small  tales  and  poems  ;  and  still  affords 
subjects  for  children's  story-books,  themes  for  ballets,  and 
plots  for  Planche's  burlesques.  Gnomes,  and  genii,  and 
afrits,  losing  all  their  terrors,  give  piquancy  to  the  wood- 
cuts in  our  illustrated  edition  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 
While  ghost-stories,  and  tales  of  magic  and  witchcraft,  af- 
ter serving  to  amuse  boys  and  girls  in  their  leisure  hours, 
become  matter  for  jocose  allusions  that  enliven  tea-table 
conversation. 

Even  our  serious  literature  and  our  speeches  are  very 
generally  relieved  by  ornaments  drawn  from  such  sources. 
A  Greek  myth  is  often  used  as  a  parallel  by  which  to  vary 
the  monotony  of  some  grave  argument.  The  lecturer 
breaks  the  dead  level  of  his  practical  discourse  by  illustra- 
tions drawn  from  bygone  customs,  events,  or  beliefs.  And 
metaphors,  similarly  derived,  give  brilliancy  to  political 
orations,  and  to  Times  leading  articles. 

Indeed,  on  careful  inquiry,  I  think  it  will  be  found  that 
we  turn  to  purposes  of  beauty  most  bygone  phenomena 
that  are  at  all  conspiucous.  The  busts  of  great  men  in  our 
libraries,  and  their  tombs  in  our  churches  j  the  once  useful 


420  USE   AXD   BEAUTY. 

but  now  purely  ornamental  heraldic  symbols ;  the  monks, 
nuns,  and  convents,  that  give  interest  to  a  certain  class  of 
novels  ;  the  bronze  mediaeval  soldiers  used  for  embellishing 
drawing-rooms ;  the  gilt  Apollos  that  recline  on  time- 
pieces; the  narratives  that  serve  as  plots  for  our  great 
dramas  ;  and  the  events  that  afford  subjects  for  historical 
pictures  ; — these  and  such  like  illustrations  of  the  metamor- 
phosis of  the  useful  into  the  beautiful,  are  so  numerous  as 
to  suggest  that,  did  we  search  diligently  enough,  we  should 
find  that  in  some  place,  or  under  some  circumstances, 
nearly  every  notable  product  of  the  past  has  assumed  a  de- 
corative character. 

And  here  the  mention  of  historical  pictures  reminds  me 
that  an  inference  may  be  drawn  from  all  this,  bearing 
directly  on  the  practice  of  art.  It  has  of  late  years  been  a 
frequent  criticism  upon  our  historical  painters,  that  they 
err  in  choosing  their  subjects  from  the  past ;  and  that, 
would  they  found  a  genuine  and  vital  school,  they  must 
render  on  canvas  the  life  and  deeds  and  aims  of  our  own 
time.  If,  however,  there  be  any  significance  in  the  fore- 
going facts,  it  seems  doubtful  whether  this  criticism  is  a 
just  one.  For  if  it  be  the  process  of  thin'gs,  that  what  has 
performed  some  practical  function  in  society  during  one 
era,  becomes  available  for  ornament  in  a  subsequent  one ; 
it  .almost  follows  that,  conversely,  whatever  is  perform- 
ing some  practical  function  now,  or  has  very  recently 
performed  one,  does  not  possess  the  ornamental  charac- 
ter ;  and  is,  consequently,  inapplicable  to  any  purpose  of 
which  beauty  is  the  aim,  or  of  which  it  is  a  needful  in- 
gredient. 

Still  more  reasonable  will  this  conclusion  appear,  when 
we  consider  the  nature  of  this  process  by  which  the  useful 
is  changed  into  the  ornamental.  An  essential  pre-requisite 
to  all  beauty  is  contrast.  To  obtain  artistic  effect,  light 
must  be  put  in  juxtaposition  with  shade,  bright  colours 


CONTRAST   A   PRE-KEQUI8ITE   TO    BEAUTY.  421 

w^ith  dull  colours,  a  fretted  surface  with  a  plain  one.  Fortt 
passages  in  music  must  have  piano  jDassages  to  relieve 
them  ;  concerted  pieces  need  interspersing  with  solos  ;  and 
rich  chords  must  not  be  continuously  repeated.  In  the 
drama  we  demand  contrast  of  characters,  of  scenes,  of  sen- 
timent, of  style.  In  prose  composition  an  eloquent  passage 
should  have  a  comparatively  plain  setting ;  and  in  poems 
great  effect  is  obtained  by  occasional  change  of  versifica- 
tion. This  general  principle  will,  I  think,  explain  the  trans- 
formation of  the  bygone  useful  into  the  present  beautiful 
It  is  by  virtue  of  their  contrast  with  our  present  modes  of 
life,  that  past  modes  of  life  look  interesting  and  romantic. 
Just  as  a  picnic,  which  is  a  temporary  return  to  an  aborigi- 
nal condition,  derives,  from  its  unfamiliarity,  a  certain  poe- 
try which  it  would  not  have  were  it  habitual ;  so,  every- 
thing ancient  gains,  from  its  relative  novelty  to  us,  an 
element  of  interest.  Gradually  as,  by  the  growth  of  soci- 
ety, we  leave  behind  the  customs,  manners,  arrangements, 
and  all  the  products,  material  and  mental,  of  a  bygone  age 
— gradually  as  we  recede  from  thcbO  so  far  that  there 
arises  a  conspicuous  difference  between  them  and  those  we 
are  familiar  with  ;  so  gradually  do  they  begin  to  assume  to 
us  a  poetical  aspect,  and  become  applicable  for  ornament. 
And  hence  it  follows  that  things  and  events  which  are  close 
to  us,  and  which  are  accompanied  by  associations  of  ideas 
not  markedly  contrasted  with  our  ordinary  associations 
are  relatively  inappropriate  for  purposes  of  art. 


XII. 
THE  SOURCES  OF  ARCHITECTURAL  TYPES 


"TTTHEN  lately  looking  through  the  gallery  of  the  Old 
V  V  "Water-Colour  Society,  I  was  struck  with  the  incon- 
gruity produced  by  putting  regular  architecture  into  irregu- 
lar scenery.  In  one  case,  where  the  artist  had  introduced  a 
perfectly  symmetrical  Grecian  edifice  into  a  mountainous 
and  somewhat  wild  landscape,  the  discordant  effect  was 
particularly  marked.  "  How  very  unpicturesque,"  said  a 
lady  to  her  friend,  as  they  passed ;  showing  that  I  was  not 
alone  in  my  opinion.  Her  phrase,  however,  set  me  specu- 
lating. Why  unpicturesque  ?  Picturesque  means,  like  a 
picture — like  what  men  choose  for  pictures.  Why  then 
should  this  be  not  fit  for  a  picture  ? 

Thinking  the  matter  over,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
artist  had  sinned  against  that  unity  which  is  essential  to  a 
good  picture.  When  the  other  constituents  of  a  landscape 
have  irregular  forms,  any  artificial  structure  introduced 
must  have  an  irregular  form,  that  it  may  seem  part  of  the 
landscape.  The  same  general  character  must  pervade  it 
and  surrounding  objects  ;  otherwise  it,  and  the  scene  amid 
which  it  stands,  become  not  o?ie  thing  but  two  things  ;  and 
we  say  it  looks  out  of  place.  Or,  speaking  psychologically, 
the  associated  ideas  called  up  by  a  building  with  its  wings, 
windows,  and  all  its  parts  symmetrically  disposed,  differ 
widely  from  the  idoas  associated  with  an  entirely  irregular 


DEBIVATION   OF   GREEK   AND   ROMAN    STYLES.         423 

landscape  ;  and  the  one  set  of  ideas  tends  to  banish  the 
other. 

Pursuing  the  train  of  thought,  sundry  illustrative  facts 
came  to  ray  mind.  I  remembered  that  a  castle,  which  is 
more  irregular  in  outline  than  any  other  kind  of  building, 
pleases  us  most  when  seated  amid  crags  and  precipices : 
while  a  castle  on  a  plain  seems  an  incongruity.  The  partly - 
regular  and  partly-irregular  forms  of  our  old  farm-houses, 
and  our  gabled  gothic  manors  and  abbeys,  appear  quite  in 
harmony  with  an  undulating,  wooded  country.  In  towns 
we  prefer  symmetrical  architecture ;  and  in  towns  it  pro- 
duces in  us  no  feeling  of  incongruity,  because  all  surround- 
ing things — men,  horses,  vehicles — are  symmetrical  also. 

And  here  I  was  reminded  of  a  notion  that  has  frequent- 
ly recurred  to  me  ;  namely,  that  there  is  some  relationship 
between  the  several  kinds  of  architecture  and  the  several 
classes  of  natural  objects.  Buildings  in  the  Greek  and 
Roman  styles  seem,  in  virtue  of  their  symmetry,  to  take 
their  type  from  animal  life.  In  the  partly-irregular  Gothic, 
ideas  derived  from  the  vegetable  world  appear  to  predomi- 
nate. And  wholly  irregular  buildings,  such  as  castles,  may 
be  considered  as  having  inorganic  forms  for  their  basis. 

Whimsical  as  this  speculation  looks  at  first  sight,  it  is 
countenanced  by  numerous  facts.  The  connexion  between 
symmetrical  architecture  and  animal  forms,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  kind  of  symmetry  we  expect,  and  are  satisfied 
with,  in  regular  buildings.  Thus  in  a  Greek  temple  we  re- 
quire that  the  front  shall  be  symmetrical  in  itself,  and  that 
the  two  flanks  shall  be  alike  ;  but  we  do  not  look  for  uni- 
formity between  the  flanks  and  the  front,  nor  between  the 
front  and  the  back.  The  identity  of  this  symmetry  with 
that  found  in  animals  is  obvious.  Again,  why  is  it  that  a 
building  making  any  pretension  to  symmetry  displeases  us 
if  not  quite  symmetrical  ?  Probably  the  reply  will  be-— 
Because  we  see  that  the  designer's  idea  is  not  fully  carried 


424:  THE   S0TJECE8   OF   AECHTTECTUEAL   TYPES. 

out ;  aud  that  hence  our  love  of  completeness  is  offended. 
But  then  there  come  the  further  questions — How  do  we 
know  that  the  architect's  conception  was  symmetrical  ? 
Whence  comes  this  notion  of  symmetry  which  we  have, 
and  which  we  attribute  to  him  ?  Unless  we  fall  back  upon 
the  old  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  we  must  admit  that  the 
idea  of  bilateral  symmetry  is  derived  fi'om  without ;  and 
to  admit  this  is  to  admit  that  it  is  derived  from  the  higher 
animals. 

That  there  is  some  relationship  between  Gothic  archi- 
tecture and  vegetable  forms  is  a  position  generally  admit- 
ted. The  often-remarked  analogy  between  a  groined  nave 
and  an  avenue  of  trees  with  interlacing  branches,  shows' 
that  the  fact  has  forced  itself  on  men's  observation.  It  is 
not  only  in  this  analogy,  however,  that  the  kinship  is  seen. 
It  is  seen  still  better  in  the  essential  characteristic  of  Goth- 
ic ;  namely,  what  is  termed  its  aspiring  tendency.  That 
predominance  of  vertical  lines  which  so  strongly  distin- 
guishes Gothic  from  other  styles,  is  the  most  marked  pecu- 
liarity of  trees,  when  compared  with  animals  or  rocks.  To 
persons  of  active  imagination,  a  tall  Gothic  tower,  with  its 
elongated  apertures  and  clusters  of  thin  projections  run- 
ning from  bottom  to  top,  suggests  a  vague  notion  of  growth. 

Of  the  alleged  connexion  between  inorganic  forms  and 
the  wholly  irregular  and  the  castellated  styles  of  building, 
we  have,  I  think,  some  proof  in  the  fact  that  when  an  edi- 
fice is  irregular,  the  more  irregular  it  is  the  more  it  pleases 
us.  I  see  no  way  of  accounting  for  this  fact,  save  by  sup- 
posing that  the  greater  the  irregularity  the  more  strongly 
are  we  reminded  of  the  inorganic  forms  typified,  and  the 
more  \Tividly  are  aroused  the  agreeable  ideas  of  rugged 
and  romantic  scenery  associated  with  those  forms. 

Further  evidence  of  these  several  relationships  of  styles 
of  architecture  to  classes  of  natural  objects,  is  supplied  by 
the  kinds  of  decoration  they  respectively  represent.     The 


SIGNIFICANCE   OF   THE   DECOEAriON9.  ^^5 

public  buildings  of  Greece,  Avhile  characterized  in  their 
outlines  by  the  bilateral  symmetry  seen  in  the  higher  ani- 
mals, have  their  pediments  and  entablatures  covered  with 
sculptured  men  and  beasts.  Egyptian  temples  and  Assyr- 
ian palaces,  while  similarly  symmetrical  in  their  general 
plan,  are  similarly  ornamented  on  their  walls  and  at  their 
doors.  In  Gothic,  again,  with  its  grove-like  ranges  of  clus 
tered  columns,  we  find  rich  foliated  ornaments  abundantly 
employed.  And  accompanying  the  totally  irregular,  inor- 
ganic outlines  of  old  castles,  we  see  neither  vegetable  nor 
animal  decorations.  The  bare,  rock-like  walls  are  sur- 
mounted by  battlements,  consisting  of  almost  plain  blocks, 
which  remind  us  of  the  projections  on  the  edge  of  a  rugged 
cliff. 

But  perhaps  the  most  significant  fact  is  the  harmony 
that  may  be  observed  between  each  type  of  architecture 
and  the  scenes  in  which  it  is  indigenous.  For  what  is  the 
explanation  of  this  harmony,  unless  it  be  that  the  predomi- 
nant character  of  surrounding  things  has,  in  some  way,  de- 
termined the  mode  of  building  adopted  ? 

That  the  harmony  exists  is  clear.  Equally  in  the  cases 
of  Egypt,  Assyria,  Greece,  and  Rome,  town  life  preceded 
the  construction  of  the  symmetrical  buildings  that  have 
come  down  to  us.  And  town  life  is  one  in  which,  as  al- 
ready observed,  the  majority  of  familiar  objects  are  sym- 
metrical. We  instinctively  feel  the  naturalness  of  this  asso- 
ciation. Out  amid  the  fields,  a  formal  house,  with  a  cen- 
tral door  flanked  by  an  equal  number  of  windows  to  right 
and  left,  strikes  us  as  unrural — looks  as  though  transplanted 
from  a  street ;  and  we  cannot  look  at  one  of  those  stuccoed 
villas,  with  mock  windows  carefully  arranged  to  balance 
the  real  ones,  without  being  reminded  of  the  suburban  res- 
idence of  a  retired  tradesman. 

In  styles  indigenous  in  the  country,  we  not  only  find  tha 
general  irregularity  characteristic  of  surrounding  things, 


426  THE    SOrECES   OF   AECHITECTUEAL   TYPES. 

but  we  may  trace  some  kinsliip  between  each  kind  of  irreg- 
ularity and  the  local  circumstances.  We  see  the  broken 
rocky  masses  amid  which  castles  are  commonly  placed,  mir- 
rored in  their  stern,  inorganic  forms.  In  abbeys,  and  such- 
like buildings,  which  are  commonly  found  in  comparatively 
sheltered  districts,  we  find  no  such  violent  dislocations  of 
masses  and  outlines  ;  and  the  nakedness  appropriate  to  tte 
fortress  is  replaced  by  decorations  reflectiug  the  neighbour- 
ing woods.  Between  a  Swiss  cottage  and  a  Swiss  view 
there  is  an  evident  relationship.  The  angular  roof,  so  bold 
and  so  disproportionately  large  when  compared. to  other 
roofs,  reminds  one  of  the  adjacent  mountain  peaks ;  and 
the  broad  overhanging  eaves  have  a  sweep  and  inclination 
like  those  of  the  lower  branches  of  a  pine  tree.  Consider, 
too,  the  apparent  kinship  between  the  flat  roofs  that  prevail 
in  Eastern  cities,  interspersed  with  occasional  minarets,  and 
the  plains  that  commonly  surround  them,  dotted  here  and 
there  by  palm  trees.  You  cannot  contemplate  a  jDicture  of 
one  of  these  places,  without  being  struck  by  the  predomi- 
nance of  horizontal  lines,  and  their  harmony  with  the  wide 
stretch  of  the  landscape. 

That  the  congruity  here  pointed  out  should  hold  in 
every  case  must  not  be  expected.  The  Pyramids,  for  ex- 
ample, do  not  seem  to  come  under  this  generalization. 
Their  repeated  horizontal  lines  do  indeed  conform  to  the 
flatness  of  the  neighbouring  desert ;  but  their  general  con- 
tour seems  to  have  no  adjacent  analogue.  Considering, 
however,  that  migrating  races,  carrying  their  architectural 
systems  with  them,  would  naturally  produce  buildings  hav- 
ing no  relationship  to  their  new  localities ;  and  that  it  is 
not  always  possible  to  distinguish  styles  which  are  indige- 
nous, from  those  which  are  naturalized ;  numerous  anoma- 
lies must  be  looked  for. 

The  general  idea  above  illustrated  will  perhaps  be  some- 
what  misinterpreted.     Possibly  some  will  take  the  proposi- 


THEIR   UNCONSCIOTIS   GROWTH.  427 

tion  to  be  that  men  intentionally  gave  to  their  buildings 
the  leading  characteristics  of  neighbouring  objects.  But 
this  is  not  what  is  meant.  T  do  not  suppose  that  they  did 
so  in  times  past,  any  more  than  they  do  so  now.  The  hy- 
pothesis is,  that  in  their  choice  of  forms  men  are  uncon- 
sciously influenced  by  the  forms  encircling  them.  That 
flat-roofed,  symmetrical  architecture  should  have  originated 
in  the  East,  among  pastoral  tribes  surrounded  by  their 
herds  and  by  wide  plains,  seems  to  imply  that  the  builders 
were  swayed  by  the  horizontality  and  symmetry  to  which 
they  were  habituated.  And  the  harmony  which  we  have 
found  to  exist  in  other  cases  between  indigenous  styles  and 
their  localities,  implies  the  general  action  of  like  influences. 
Indeed,  on  considering  the  matter  psychologically,  I  do  not 
see  how  it  could  well  be  otherwise.  For  as  all  conceptions 
must  be  made  up  of  images,  and  parts  of  images,  received 
through  the  senses — as  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  con- 
ceive any  design  save  one  of  which  the  elements  have  come 
into  his  mind  from  without  ;  and  as  his  imagination  will 
most  readily  run  in  the  direction  of  his  habitual  percep- 
tions ;  it  follows,  almost  necessarily,  that  the  characteristic 
which  predominates  in  these  habitual  perceptions  must  im- 
press itself  on  his  design. 


xni. 
THE  USE  OE  ANTHROPOMORPHISM. 


THAT  long  fit  of  indignation  which  seizes  all  generous 
natures  when  in  youth  they  begin  contemplating  hu- 
man affairs,  having  fairly  spent  itself,  there  slowly  grows 
up  a  perception  that  the  institutions,  beliefs,  and  forms  so 
vehemently  condemned  are  not  wholly  bad.  This  reaction 
runs  to  various  lengths.  In  some,  merely  to  a  comparative 
contentment  with  the  arrangements  under  which  they  live. 
In  others  to  a  recognition  of  the  fitness  that  exists  between 
each  people  and  its  government,  tyrannical  as  that  may  be. 
In  some,  again,  to  the  conviction,  that  hateful  though  it  is 
to  us,  and  injurious  as  it  would  be  now,  slavery  was  once 
beneficial — was  one  of  the  necessary  phases  of  human  pro- 
gress. Again,  in  others,  to  the  suspicion  that  great  benefit 
has  indirectly  arisen  from  the  perpetual  warfare  of  past 
times  ;  insuring  as  this  did  the  spread  of  the  strongest  races, 
and  so  providing  good  raw  material  for  civilization.  And 
in  ar  few  this  reaction  ends  in  the  generalization  that  all 
modes  of  human  thought  and  action  subserve,  in  the  times 
and  places  in  which  they  occur,  some  useful  function  :  that 
though  bad  in  the  abstract,  they  are  relatively  good — are 
the  best  which  the  then  existing  conditions  admit  of. 

A  startling  conclusion  to  which  this  faith  in  the  essen- 
tial beneficence  of  things  commits  us,  is  that  the  religious 
creeds  through  which  mankind  successively  pass,  are,  dur- 


FAITHS    AND    CREEDS    ARE    AFFAIRS    OF    GROWTH.      429 

ing  the  eras  in  which  they  are  severally  held,  the  best 
that  could  be  held ;  and  that  this  is  true,  not  only  of  thp 
latest  and  most  refined  creeds,  but  of  all,  even  to  the  ear- 
liest and  most  gross.  Those  who  regard  men's  faiths  aa 
giren  to  them  from  without — as  having  origins  either  di- 
rectly divine  or  diabolical,  and  who,  considering  their  own 
as  the  sole  example  of  the  one,  class  all  the  rest  under  the 
other,  will  think  this  a  very  shocking  opinion.  I  can  im- 
agine, too,  that  many  of  those  who  have  abandoned  cur- 
rent theologies,  and  now  regard  religions  as  so  many 
natural  products  of  human  nature — men  who,  having  lost 
that  antagonism  towards  their  old  creed  which  they  felt 
while  shaking  themselves  free  from  it,  can  now  see  that  it 
was  highly  beneficial  to  past  generations,  and  is  beneficial 
still  to  a  large  part  of  mankind  ; — I  can  imagine  even  these 
hardly  prepared  to  admit  that  all  religions,  down  to  the 
lowest  Fetichism,  have,  in  their  places,  fulfilled  useful  func- 
tions. If  such,  however,  will  consistently  develop  their 
ideas,  they  will  find  this  inference  involved. 

For  if  it  be  true  that  humanity  in  its  corporate  as  well 
as  in  its  individual  aspect,  is  a  growth  and  not  a  manufac- 
ture, it  is  obvious  that  during  each  phase  men's  theologies, 
as  well  as  their  political  and  social  arrangements,  must  be 
determined  into  such  forms  as  the  conditions  require.  In  the 
one  case  as  in  the  other,  by  a  tentative  process,  things  from 
time  to  time  re-settle  themselves  in  a  way  that  best  consists 
with  national  equilibrium.  As  out  of  plots  and  the  strug- 
gles of  chieftains,  it  continually  results  that  the  strongest 
gets  to  the  top,  and  by  virtue  of  his  proved  superiority 
ensures  a  period  of  quiet,  and  gives  society  time  to  grow ; 
as  out  of  incidental  expedients  there  periodically  arise  new 
divisions  of  labour,  which  get  permanently  established 
only  by  serving  men's  wants  better  than  the  previous  ar- 
rangements did ;  so,  the  creed  which  each  period  evolves  is 
one  more  in  conformity  with  the  needs  of  the  time  than 


430  THE   USE   OF   AiqTHROPOMOEPHISM. 

the  creed  which  preceded  it.  Not  to  rest  in  general  state- 
ments, however,  let  us  consider  why  this  must  be  so.  Let 
us  see  whether,  in  the  genesis  of  men's  ideas  of  deit}',  there 
is  not  involved  a  necessity  to  conceive  of  deity  under  the 
aspect  most  influential  with  them. 

It  is  now  generally  admitted  that  a  more  or  less  ideal- 
ized humanity  is  the  form  which  every  conception  of  a  per- 
gonal God  must  take.  Anthropomorphism  is  an  inevitable 
result  of  the  laws  of  thought.  We  cannot  take  a  step  to- 
wards constructing  an  idea  of  God  without  the  ascription 
of  human  attributes.  We  cannot  even  speak  of  a  divine 
will  without  assimilating  the  divine  nature  to  our  own  ; 
for  we  know  nothing  of  volition  save  as  a  property  of  our 
own  minds. 

While  this  anthropomorphic  tendency,  or  rather  neces- 
sity, is  manifested  by  themselves  with  sufficient  grossness — 
a  grossness  that  is  offensive  to  those  more  advanced — 
Christians  are  indignant  at  the  still  grosser  manifestations 
of  it  seen  among  uncivilized  men.  Certainly,  such  concep- 
tions as  those  of  some  Polynesians,  who  believe  that  their 
gods  feed  on  the  souls  of  the  dead,  or  as  those  of  the 
Greeks,  who  ascribed  to  the  personages  of  their  Pantheon 
every  vice,  from  domestic  cannibalism  downward,  are  re- 
pulsive enough.  But  if,  ceasing  to  regard  these  notions 
from  the  outside,  we  more  philosophically  regard  them 
from  the  inside — if  we  consider  how  they  looked  to  believers, 
and  observe  the  relationships  they  bore  to  the  natures  and 
needs  of  such ;  we  shall  begin  to  think  of  them  with  some 
tolerance.  The  question  to  be  answered  is,  whether  these 
beliefs  were  beneficent  in  their'  effects  on  those  who  held 
tliem  ;  not  whether  they  would  be  beneficent  for  us,  or 
for  perfect  men  ;  and  to  this  question  the  answer  must  be 
that  while  absolutely  bad,  they  were  relatively  good. 

For  is  it  not  obvious  that  the  savage  man  will  be  most 
effectually   controlled  by   his   fears  of   a   savage    deity  ? 


JJECESSITY   OF   THE   IDEA   OF   A   CErEL   DEITY.         431 

Must  it  not  happen,  that  if  his  nature  requires  great  re- 
straint, the  supposed  consequences  of  transgression,  to  be 
a  check  upon  him,  must  be  proportionately  terrible  ;  and 
for  these  to  be  proportionately  teriible,  must  not  his  god 
be  conceived  as  proportionately  cruel  and  revengeful  ?  Is  it 
not  well  that  the  treacherous,  thievish,  lying  Hindoo  should 
believe  in  a  hell  where  the  wicked  are  boiled  in  cauldrons,  roll- 
ed down  mountains  bristling  with  knives,  and  sawn  asunder 
between  flaming  iron  posts  ?  And  that  there  may  be  pro- 
vided such  a  hell,  is  it  not  needful  that  he  should  believe  in  a 
divinity  delighting  in  human  immolations  and  the  self-tor- 
ture of  fakirs  ?  Does  it  not  seem  clear  that  during  the 
earlier  ages  in  Christendom,  when  men's  feelings  were  so 
hard  that  a  holy  father  could  describe  one  of  the  delights 
of  heaven  to  be  the  contemplation  of  the  torments  of  the 
damned — does  it  not  seem  clear  that  while  the  general  na- 
ture was  so  unsympathetic,  there  needed,  to  keep  men  in 
order,  all  the  prospective  tortures  described  by  Daute,  and 
a  deity  implacable  enough  to  inflict  them  ? 

And  if,  as  we  thus  see,  it  is  well  for  the  savage  man  to 
believe  in  a  savage  god,  then  we  may  also  see  the  great 
usefulness  of  this  anthropomorphic  tendency;  or,  as  before 
said,  necessity.  We  have  in  it  another  illustration  of  that 
essential  beneficence  of  things  visible  everywhere  through- 
out nature.  From  this  inability  under  which  we  labour  to 
conceive  of  a  deity  save  as  some  idealization  of  ourselves, 
it  inevitably  results  that  in  each  age,  among  each  people, 
and  to  a  great  extent  in  each  individual,  there  must  arise 
just  that  conception  of  deity  best  adapted  to  the  needs  of 
the  case.  If,  being  violent  and  bloodthirsty,  the  nature  be 
one  calling  for  stringent  control,  it  evolves  the  idea  of  a 
ruler  still  more  violent  and  bloodthirsty,  and  fitted  to  aflbrd 
this  control.  When,  by  ages  of  social  discipline,  the  nature 
has  been  partially  humanized,  and  the  degree  of  restraint  re- 
quired has  become  less,  the  diabolical  cnaract eristics  before 


4:32  THE   USE   OF   ANTHE0P0M0EPH18M. 

ascribed  to  the  deity  cease  to  be  so  predominant  in  the 
conception  of  him.  And  gradually,  as  all  need  for  restraint 
disappears,  this  conception  approximates  towards  that  of 
a  purely  beneficent  necessity.  Thus,  man's  constitution  is 
in  this,  as  in  other  respects,  self-adjusting,  self-balancing. 
The  mind  itself  evolves  a  compensating  check  to  its  own 
movements ;  varying  always  in  proportion  to  the  require- 
ment. Its  centrifugal  and  its  centripetal  forces  are  neces- 
sarily in  correspondence,  because  the  one  generates  the 
other.  And  so  we  find  that  the  forms  of  both  religious 
and  secular  rule  follow  the  same  law.  As  an  ill- controlled 
national  character  produces  a  despotic  terrestrial  govern- 
ment, so  also  does  it  produce  a  despotic  celestial  govern- 
ment— the  one  acting  through  the  senses,  the  other 
through  the  imagination ;  and  in  the  converse  case  the 
same  relationsliip  holds  good. 

Organic  as  this  relationship  is  in  its  origin,  no  artificial 
interference  can  permanently  afiect  it.  Whatever  pertur- 
bations an  external  agency  may  seem  to  produce,  they  are 
soon  neutralized  in  fact,  if  not  in  appearance.  I  was  re- 
cently struck  with  this  in  reading  a  missionary  account  of 
the  "  gracious  visitations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  at  Yewa,"  one 
of  the  Feejee  islands.  Describing  a  "  penitent  meeting," 
the  account  says  : — 

"  Certainly  the  feelings  of  the  Yewa  people  were  not  ordi- 
nary. They  literally  roared  for  hours  together  for  the  disquietude 
of  their  souls.  This  frequently  terminated  in  fainting  from  ex- 
haustion, which  was  the  only  respite  some  of  them  had  till  they 
found  peace.  They  no  sooner  recovered  their  consciousness  than 
they  prayed  themselves  first  into  an  agony,  then  again  into  a  state 
of  entire  insetisibility." 

Xow  these  Feejee  islanders  are  the  most  savage  of  all 
the  uncivilized  races.  They  are  given  to  cannibalism,  in 
fanticide,  and   human  sacrifices ;  they  are  so  bloodthirst^f 


CONVERSION   AMONG   THE   FEEJEEANS.  433 

and  so  treacherous,  that  members  of  the  same  family  dare 
not  trust  each  other ;  and,  in  harmony  with  these  charac- 
teristics, they  have  for  their  aboriginal  god,  a  serpent.  Is 
it  not  clear  then,  that  these  violent  emotions  which  the 
missionaries  describe,  these  terrors  and  agonies  of  despair 
which  they  rejoiced  over,  were  nothing  but  the  worship  of 
the  old  god  under  a  new  name  ?  Is  it  not  clear  that  these 
Feejees  had  simply  understood  those  parts  of  the  Christian 
creed  which  agree  in  spirit  with  their  own — the  vengeance, 
the  perpetual  torments,  the  diabolism  of  it;  that  these, 
harmonizing  with  their  natural  conceptions  of  divine  rule, 
were  realized  by  them  vdih  extreme  vividness ;  and  that 
the  extremity  of  the  fear  which  made  them  "  literally  roar 
for  hours  together,"  arose  from  the  fact  that  while  they 
could  fully  take  in  and  believe  the  punitive  element,  the 
merciful  one  was  beyond  their  comprehension  ?  This  is 
the  obvious  inference.  And  it  carries  with  it  the  further 
one,  that  in  essence  their  new  belief  was  merely  their  old 
one  under  a  new  form — the  same  substantial  conception 
with  a  different  history  and  different  names. 

However  great,  therefore,  may  be  the  seeming  change 
adventitiously  produced  in  a  people's  religion,  the  anthro- 
pomorphic tendency  prevents  it  from  being  other  than  a 
superficial  change — insures  such  modifications  of  the  new 
religion  as  to  give  it  all  the  potency  of  the  old  one — ob- 
scures whatever  higher  elements  there  may  be  in  it  until 
the  people  have  reached  the  capability  of  being  acted  upon 
by  them ;  and  so,  re-establishes  the  equilibrium  between 
the  impulses  and  the  control  they  need.  If  any  one  re- 
quires detailed  illustrations  of  this,  he  will  find  them  in 
abundance  in  the  history  of  the  modifications  of  Christian- 
ity throughout  Europe. 

Ceasing  then  to  regard  heathen  theologies  from  the 
personal  point  of  view,  and  considering  them  solely  with 
reference  to  the  function  they  fulfil  where  they  are  indige- 
19 


434  THE   USE   OF   ANTHROPOMOEPHISM. 

nous,  we  must  recognise  them  in  common  with  all  theolo- 
gies, as  good  for  their  time  and  places ;  and  this  mental 
necessity  which  disables  us  from  conceiving  a  deity  save  as 
some  idealization  of  ourselves,  we  must  recognise  as  the 
agency  by  which  harmony  is  produced  and  maintained 
between  every  phase  of  human  character  and  its  religious 
creed. 


INDEX 


Abstract  and  concrete,  relations  of, 
174. 

Actions,  voluntary  and  involuntary, 
307. 

Analogies  of  the  rudest  societies  to 
the  lowest  forms  of  life,  386,  390. 

Analogies  of  function  between  living 
beings  and  societies,  398. 

Annulosa,  structure  of,  compared  to 
that  of  nations,  396,  410. 

Anthropomorphism,  necessity  of, 
410. 

Architectural  ideas,  origin  of,  427. 

Architecture,  relationship  to  natural 
objects,  423 ;  illustrations  of,  423- 
425  ;  town,  why  symmetrical,  423 ; 
country,  why  irregular,  425. 

Arts,  interconnexion  of,  187. 

Astronomic  influences  upon  climate 
produce  breaks  in  geological  suc- 
cession, 344. 

Automatic  actions  of  men  and  gov- 
ernments, 414. 

Australia,  fauna  of,  338. 


B 


Bain  "  On  the  Emotions  and  Will," 

estimate  of,  290. 
Beauty,  its  evolution  from  utility, 

417,^421. 
Beliefs,  how  to  judge  of  them,  430. 
Bow,  derivation  of  the,  78. 
Breaks    in   the   geological   record. 


Hugh  Miller  upon,  343  ;  produced 
by  astronomic  causes,  344 ;  by  re- 
distributions of  land  and  sea,  347. 
Buildings  related  to  landscape,  426 ; 
cause  of  incongruities  in,  426  ;  re- 
lation unintentional,  427. 


Cambrian  rocks,  inference  from  their 
thickness,  354. 

Calculus,  origin  of,  158. 

Castles,  built  Avith  no  reference  to 
art,  418. 

Cause,  single,  produces  more  than 
one  effect,  32 ;  illustrated  in  geo- 
loffical  phenomena,  35  ;  in  chemi- 
cal, 40  ;  in  organic  evolution,  42  ; 
in  social  progress,  50  ;  in  use  of 
locomotive  engine,  53. 

Central  America,  effects  of  subsi- 
dence of,  38. 

Cerebrum,  analogy  of  to  houses  of 
parliament,  411,  414. 

Circulation  in  animal  bodies  and 
bodies  politic,  389,  399  ;  rates  of 
movement  in,  405  ;  of  money  and 
blood-discs,  402. 

Classifications  of  science,  progress 
of,  183,  what  thev  indicate,  125 ; 
Oken's,  125 ;  Hegel's,  128 ;  Comte's, 
131 ;  serial  arrangement  vicious, 
144. 

Classification,  the  mental  process  in, 
147 ;  advances  with  rationahty, 
157 ;   how  it  has  aided  science, 


436 


INDEX. 


182  5  of  the  cognitions,-  309  ;  of  the 
feelings,  311 :  in  Psychology,  for 
the  present  must  be  provisional, 
288,  289. 

Climate,  changes  in,  produced  by 
astronomic  rhythm,  341;  by  re- 
distributions of  land  and  sea, 
347. 

Comets,  formation  of,  256 ;  orbits 
of,  258;  distribution  of,  259,  261. 

Common  knowledge,  nature  of,  117  ; 
relation  of,  to  science,  118,  122. 

Comte's  hierarchy  of  the  sciences, 
131. 

Consciousness,  mystery  of,  197. 

Condensation  of  nebula,  250. 

Contrast,  its  relation  to  beauty,  420. 

Creeds  suited  to  the  age  that  holds 
them,  429,  431. 

Cm-tsy,  origin  of,  79. 


D 


Densities  of  the  planets,  278, 279. 

Development  hypothesis,  neither 
proved  nor  disproved  by  Paleon- 
tology, 355,  364 ;  defense  of, 
367. 

Direct  creation  inconceivable,  366 ; 
no  examples  of,  365  ;  origin  of  the 
notion,  361. 


Earth's  cnist,  5  ;  contraction  of,  35. 

Ectodeim  social  and  embryonic, 
307. 

Education,  bearing  of  evolution  of 
science  upon,  193. 

Emotions  m  animals,  genesis  of, 
303. 

Emotional  language,  232;  impor- 
tance of,  235,  238. 

Engine,  locomotive,  results  of  in- 
vention of,  53. 

Equality,  origin  of  notion  of,  152, 
158  ;  of  things  and  relations,  153. 

Evolution  of  the  emotions,  299. 

Evolution  of  governmental  and  ner- 
vous structm-es,  308. 


Fashion,  origin  of,  90 ;    corruption 

of,  91. 
Feeling  and  action,  relation  of,  199, 

208. 


Feeling,  mystery  of,  197  ;  effects  of 
surplus  in  producing  laughter, 
201 ;  why  it  disturbs  the  mtel- 
lect,  207. 

Feeling,  a  stimulus  to  muscular  ac- 
tion, 211,  220  ;  shown  in  loudness 
of  voice,  215  ;  in  quality  or  tim- 
bre, 215  ;  in  pitch,  216  ;'  in  inter- 
vals, 217  ;  in  variability  of  pitch, 
219  ;  relation  of,  to  vocal  sounds 
in  ourselves,  220  ;  in  others,  220  ; 
causes  prostration,  222 ;  classifi- 
cation of  the  feelings,  311. 

Fejee  islanders,  penitent  meeting 
among,  432. 

Final  cause,  262,  272,  275,  281. 

Fossils  as  tests  of  age  and  position, 
327,  335. 

Fimction  of  music,  231-235. 


Generalizations  premature,  use  of, 
311 ;  as  seen  in  history  of  Astrono- 
my, 314  ;  in  Geology,  315. 

Genesis  of  new  emotions  in  civiliza- 
tion, 301  ;  in  animals,  303. 

Geological  evidence,  value  of,  8. 

Geologic  "systems,"  are  they  imi- 
versal?  323-327. 

Geometry,  origin  of,  158,  167. 

God,  origin  of  the  conception  of, 
65. 

Gothic  architectm-e,  source  of,  433, 
434. 

Government,  rise  of,  12,  69,  92 ; 
three-fold  nature  ot,  13,  65,  83; 
separation  of  civil  from  religious, 
69  ;  early  need  of  severe,  85  ;  pro- 
gressive amelioration  of,  88 ; 
course  of  all,  114 ;  results  from 
national  character,  375. 

Great  men,  relation  of  to  social 
changes,  376. 

Greek  and  Eoman  architecture,  de- 
rivation of,  423. 


H 


Heathen    theologies,    estimate    of, 

•44. 
Hegel's  classification  of  philosophy, 

128. 
History  as  commonly  studied,  smaU 

value  of,  373. 


INDEX. 


437 


Hobbs's  parallelism  of  society  and 
the  human  body,  367. 

Homogeneous,  change  of  to  hetero- 
geneous, 3 ;  seen  in  genesis  of 
solar  system,  3  ;  in  phenomena 
of  earth's  ci-ust,  5 ;  m  the  ad- 
vance of  life  in  general,  7  ;  in  the 
progress  of  man,  10  ;  in  growth 
of  civilization,  12 ;  in  govern- 
ment, 13 ;  in  language,  17 ;  in 
painting  and  sculpture,  20 ;  in 
poetry,  music,  and  dancing,  24 ; 
cause  of  this  imiversal  change, 
32. 

Hutton's  geological  system,  315 ; 
contrast  of  the  modem  with,  318. 

Hydra  compared  with  primitive 
tribes,  389,  395,  400,  408. 

Hydrozoa,  analogies  of,  389,  391, 
400. 


Industrial  organization,  373. 

Industrial  arrangements,  develop- 
ment of  compared  with  that  of 
the  alimentary  organs,  398. 

Insensible  modifications  effect  great 
changes,  367  ;  illustrated  bv  geo- 
metrical curves,  306  ;  by  physio- 
logical development,  370. 


King's  councils  compared  to  gan- 
glia, 409,  411. 

Knowledge,  experience  the  source 
of  all,  126 :  relations  of  various 
kinds  of,  167. 


Language,  differentiation  of,  17  j 
origin  of  written,  18:  origin  ot 
verbal,  149 ;  origin  of  emotional, 
220. 

La  Place's  theory  of  planetary  evo- 
lution, 263-265. 

Laughter,  common  explanations  of, 
194  ;  movements  in^  200  ;  groups 
of  muscles  successively  affected 
in,  201 ;  caused  by  incongruities, 
203  ;  facilitates  digestion,  207. 

Law,  origin  of,  70. 

Likeness  and  unlikeness,  recogni- 


tion of,  the  basis  of  classification, 

147  ;  the  basis  of  language,  149  ; 

of  reasoning,  150  ;    of  art,  151 ; 

leads  to  science,  152. 
Logic,  how  evolved,  158. 
Lvell,  Sir  Charles,  criticism  upon, 

'326,  330 


M 


Man,  progress  of,  10. 

Manners,  genesis  of,  77  ;  decline  of 
the  influence  of,  89  ;  conformity  in 
manners  leads  to  extravagance, 
99  ;  conformity  in,  decreases  so- 
cial mtercourse,  100  ;  defeats  the 
true  end  of  social  life,  102,  107. 

MathematicSj  how  evolved,  158. 

Mechanics,  rise  of  science  of,  168. 

Mineral  qualities  of  rocks  xmtrust- 
worthy  tests  of  age  or  position, 
320. 

Miller,  Hugh,  estimate  of,  340. 

Motion  of  nebulous  matter,  251- 
253. 

Morality,  origin  of,  70. 

Muscular  movements,  cause  of,  195; 
arrested  by  feeling,  199 ;  in  laugh- 
ter purposeless,  201 ;  of  animals 
when  excited,  211  •  variations  of, 
produce  changes  ot  voice,  214. 

Music,  uicreasiug  heterogeneity  of, 
26;  relation  of  mental  to  muscu- 
lar excitement,  the  source  of,  214  ; 
theory  of,  221-224 ;  its  history 
confirms  the  theory,  22^228; 
negative  proof  of  theory  of,  228- 
231. 

Murchison,  Sir  R.  I.,  criticism  upon 
his  "  Siluria,"  320,  328,  351,  354. 


N 


Nebula,  are  they  parts  of  our  side- 
real system  ?  243j  249 ;  condensa- 
tion of,  250  ;  motion  in,  251 ;  sig- 
nificance of  forms  of,  254 ;  struc- 
ture of  spiral,  254. 

Nebular  hypothesis,  3,  34 ;  its  high 
derivation,  239  ;  it  explains  comet- 
ary  phenomena,  262. 

Negative  facts  in  geology,  small 
value  of,  360-363. 

Nervous  system,  effects  of  excite- 
ment in,  195;  directions  of  dis- 
charge   of    excitement    in,    197; 


438 


INDEX. 


course  of  discliarge  imguided  by 
purpose,  201. 
Niunber,   origin  of  conception    of, 
154. 


Oken's  classification  of  knowledge, 
125. 


Painting  and  sculpture,  origin  of, 
20. 

Paleontology  neither  proves  nor  dis- 
proves development,  355,  364. 

Picturesque,  meaning  of,  421. 

Plato's  model  republic,  central  idea 
of,  376. 

Previsions  and  ordinary  knowledge, 
117  ;  previsions  known  as  science, 
118 ;  common  and  scientific,  123  ; 
when  quantitative  arose,  158  ;  in- 
crease in  precision,  171. 

Primary  divisions  of  a  germ  and  of 
a  society,  392-395. 

Progress, '  current  meaning  of,  1 ; 
present  inquiry  concernins^,  2 ; 
law  of  progress  exemplified  in  the 
genesis  of  solar  system,  3 ;  in  the 
phenomena  of  the  earth's  crust, 
5 ;  in  the  advance  of  life  in  gene- 
ral, 7 ;  in  the  history  of  man, 
10 ;  in  the  growth  of  civilization, 
12 ;  in  government,  13 ;  in  lan- 
guage, 17  ;  in  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, 20;  in  poetry,  music,  and 
dancing,  24;  statement  of  the 
principle  which  determines  pro- 
gress of  every  kind,  32;  the  prin- 
ciple of  progress  illustrated  in 
geological  phenomena,  35 ;  in 
chemical,  40 ;  in  organic  evolu- 
tion, 42  ;  in  social  advancement, 
50 ;  in  use  of  locomotive  en- 
gine, 54;  this  principle  does  not 
explain  things  in  themselves, 
58 ;  progress  of  science,  141 ; 
of  astronomical  discoverv,  165, 
171. 

Progress  of  animals  and  societies  in 
forming  channels  of  communica- 
tion, 404. 

Psychology,  relation  of  English 
tiiought  to,  289;  classification  in, 
for  the  present,  must  be  provis- 
ional, 288,  289. 


E 


Eeasonin^,  natui-e  of,  150;  basis  of, 
154;  advances  with  classification, 
157. 

Eeformers,  eccentricities  o^  61 ;  why 
necessary,  93 ;  not  selfish,  95,  97 ; 
difficulties  of  social,  110. 

Eeform,  how  is  it  to  be  efi'ected? 
111. 

Eeligion  aided  by  inquiry,  58. 

Eeligious  ideas,  account  of  primi- 
tive, 6ii. 


Saturn,  rings  of,  276. 

Satellites,  fistribution  of,  272-276. 

Savage  men  need  a  savage  deity, 
43i. 

Science,  limits  of,  58  ;  definition  of, 
119  ;  when  complete,  120 ;  test  of 
the  depth  of,  122 ;  slow  growth 
of,  123 ;  duplex  progress  ot\  141 ; 
ultimate  analysis  of  exact,  160. 

Sciences,  early  simultaneous  ad- 
vance of,  165;  not  independent 
of  each  other,  186  ;  aid  each  other 
by  analogies,  181 ;  mutual  influ- 
ence of  modern,  178. 

Sculpture  and  painting,  origin  of, 
20. 

Solar  System,  movements  of  planets 
on  their  axes  in,  267-271. 

Strata  now  forming,  lithological  dif- 
ferences in,  335 ;  differences  in 
the  order  of  superj^osition  of,  336  ; 
differences  in  the  organic  remains 
of,  337. 

Societies  and  individual  organisms, 
points  of  agreement  between,  379- 
381 ;  differences  of,  examined,  381- 
385. 

Social  intercourse,  philosophy  of, 
105. 

Social  changes,  true  source  of,  374. 

Spectrum  analysis,  283. 

Spiral  nebula, '255. 

Steam-engine,  multiplied  effects  of, 
53. 

Sun,  constitution  of,  282,  284 ;  rela- 
tion of  plane  of  its  equator  to 
plane  of  planetary  orbits,  266. 


Telegraph  wires,  comparison  of  to 
nerves,  415. 


INDEX. 


439 


Titles,  derivation  of,  72 ;  deprecia- 
tion of,  74. 
Truth,  ultimate  test  of,  130. 


U 


Useful    passes  into    the    beautiful, 
418,  421. 


Voice,  cause  of   loudness  of,  215; 


cause  of  cjuality  of,  215 ;  of  pitch 
of,  216;  intervals  in,  217;  varia- 
bility of  the  pitch  of,  219. 
Voluntary  and  involuntary  actions, 
307. 


W 


Werner's  system  of  Geology,  316; 
contrast  of,  with  the  modem  sys- 
tem, 318. 


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